


Makeup

by j_s_cavalcante, kalena



Category: due South
Genre: Angst, Crossdressing, First Time, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-30
Updated: 2010-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-06 20:08:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 50,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_s_cavalcante/pseuds/j_s_cavalcante, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalena/pseuds/kalena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Never Say "Crack" to a Man in a Thong.</p><p>Fraser's been kidnapped. Ray would do pretty much anything to rescue him. Even get pretty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Makeup

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings**: The warning for noncon is for a fuck-or-die, bad guys made 'em do it scenario. That's where the m/m/f ménage à trois scene comes in. Otherwise, this is an M/M story.   
> There is also mention of (but NO depiction of) underage noncon by the bad guys. They're criminals!  
> There is angst, but I always leave the boys in a happy place.

The door to the women's john hit the wall with an earsplitting bang. Ray'd pushed it too hard; he skidded in after it, his boot heels skating on the cracked linoleum, and fetched up hip-first against the nearest sink--which, ow!--but Ray didn't have time to care. For one deathly quiet second he thought he'd damaged his hearing, but then Frannie shrieked and he realized his ears were working just fine.

"Ray! What are you--jeez, you almost gave me a heart attack. You can't be in here!" His bogus sister was standing at the mirror, yelling loud enough to wake Mort's patients downstairs. She winged her lipstick at him, the hard tube hitting him right between the eyes. It hurt like hell and left a streak of Plum Passion over his eyebrow; he could see it on his reflection. It was going to stay there, too, because wiping it off would use up time he didn't have. He quickly scooped the lipstick off the floor.

"Frannie, I need your makeup."

"What, are you some kinda pervert? Go buy your own! And get _out_!"

"It's an emergency, damn it!"

"Ray, you always look like that. Trust me, makeup won't help."

"Frannie, come on! It's a matter of life and death!"

She snorted. "Don't tell me: you got a drag queen at your desk having a beauty emergency. Listen, this is the expensive stuff. I spent my whole measly paycheck at the Clinique counter last week." She shielded her purse with crossed arms.

"I don't care what kind of makeup it is! Just hand it over!" Ray tried to grab her purse, but she fought him like a tiger--okay, a kitten, but a kitten with needle-sharp claws. She managed to land a slap that really stung. He yelped in pain and held her as far away as his arm could reach. "Frannie, stop! It's not for me, it's for--"

"I don't care what it's for! Get out! Do I need to call somebody in here to arrest you?" She kicked him in the shin, hard. He yelped and grabbed his leg, shoving her away and dropping the lipstick.

"It's for Fraser!" he yelled. Finally: the magic word. Frannie stopped swinging and narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but she kept a good grip on her bag.

Ray stood up straight and tried to look like he wouldn't have to limp out of there. "Fraser's been abducted. I hit up every snitch in the greater Chicago area, and it turns out this mook Gorman knows where Fraser's been taken, but the kidnapper wants to get paid up front. Except he won't take money. He's got this list of weird stuff he wants instead. The first item of which is...makeup."

"Oh, my God, Fraser's in danger? We have to do something!" She grabbed his sleeve and started to pull him out into the hall with her.

"I'm _doing_ something! Let go of my shirt, okay?" He hauled her back into the bathroom and shut the door. "Frannie, listen to me. The kidnapper won't even talk to me about Fraser unless I bring him that stuff_\--_" he waved a hand at her face. "Mascara, lipstick. Whatever. Makeup."

"But . . ."

"Frannie, I don't have time to go to Field's." He spread his hands imploringly. "It's for Fraser. Just give me the makeup."

"How do you know this guy is even on the straight?"

"On the--?" He gave his head one shake to clear it. "On the level? Never mind. I believe Gorman 'cause he's the snitch who helped us bust that kiddie porn ring last month. Helped us take down the biggest bunch of scum in the country. Guy's no choirboy, but his information's been good."

"Well, if this is really for Benton, okay," she muttered, opening her oversized bag. He blinked at the number of little bottles and tubes and...things...she pulled out and stacked on the bathroom counter. He reached out and touched her shoulder, not sure what she was going to do when she heard the next part.

"Frannie. There's something else."

"What?"

He licked his lips and waited until she was looking him in the eye. "I need your underwear."

"You need WHAT?!"

Ray sketched an apologetic shrug. "He wants women's underwear, which that is something I do not happen to have."

"Dewey put you up to this," she said accusingly.

He looked at her straight up. "Frannie, not a chance I would take a dare from that clown."

She stared at him for a long moment, then swept all the junk back into her purse.

"Hey, wait, what about--?"

"Come on, Ray. Let's go."

"Are you kidding? You can't come along, this could be dangerous!"

"Then go ask your ex-wife for _her_ underwear." Frannie tossed her hair. "I guarantee you, that would be a lot more dangerous." She turned and walked out of the john.

She had a point. Ray followed her out like a baby duck.

 

The back room of the bar was a typical bar office, with a desk and a chair and a couple of filing cabinets. There was a messy pile of papers and stuff on the floor that looked like somebody'd swept it all off the desk at once. And there was no sign of Fraser. Gorman wasn't there, either. What _was_ there was a guy the size of a tree. He had to be six foot five, and he was dressed in a classy dark green suit.

He looked mighty strange in this dump.

The tree guy sat down in the chair, making it creak, and put his feet up on the desk like some kind of big shot. Ray could tell right away he wasn't; the guy was just somebody's big goon. Not a completely stupid one, though, so Ray knew he had to be careful.

"Detective Vecchio," the goon said with a nasty smile. "So glad you could make it."

"Where's Gorman?" Ray demanded. He had the sinking feeling that this operation was going to hell in Frannie's handbag, but there was nothing else he could do. He had to find Fraser. He'd find him if he had to rip this place apart with his bare hands. "Where is _Fraser?"_

"Yeah! Where is he?" Frannie was right up there with him, lipping off to this asshole who could probably break her in half without breaking a sweat. Ray'd talked himself blue trying to get her to stay out of it, but here she was, a civilian, putting herself in harm's way, not to mention endangering Ray's and Fraser's lives, all because she wouldn't give him her fucking underwear. Ray wondered if he could deputize her, but that really wouldn't help in the long run. He'd have to deal with getting suspended later, after Fraser was safe.

"Gorman served his purpose," the big guy rumbled.

Ray's stomach did a flip-flop. He had a feeling he'd never get another tip from Gorman. His fingers itched to draw his gun, but he knew that would be a really stupid move.

"You _killed_ him?"

"Somebody did," the green guy said, like he didn't really care. "But don't worry about your Mountie friend," the guy went on. "You'll be seeing a _lot_ of him, real soon." The guy's leer made no sense, but the two gunmen who materialized from behind a hidden door somehow did.

"Fuck."

"You'll get your chance." The Jolly Green Giant laughed like something was funny. He heaved his bulk out of the desk chair and stood up, all six-feet-enormous of him. His jovial face morphed into a glare like he had menacing-bastard special effects. Where the hell did they get this mook, out of a comic book?

Greenie slapped a meaty hand on the desk. "Enough chit-chat. Where's the stuff?"

Frannie inched over to the desk and dumped out the makeup while one of Greenie's lackeys patted Ray down and relieved him of both guns and his cell phone. Frannie clutched her bag and carefully tottered back to Ray's side without turning her back on the bad guys. She looked plenty nervous, which that was good, Ray thought. Maybe it'd keep her from doing anything stupid.

Well, stupid-_er_, anyway.

Greenie looked over the goodies. "I don't see any women's underwear."

Maybe Ray could bluff him out. "Uh...women's underwear?" Like he hadn't heard that part. "I, uh, thought Gorman said..."

"Don't try to bullshit me, you little prick." Greenie smiled a real ugly smile. "I'm not your high-school boyfriend. I won't take no for an answer."

"What, the makeup isn't enough, you gotta have something even more perverted?"

"I got orders, just like you," Greenie said. "Boss wants it, and it's the price of your friend's life, or didn't that register? You didn't bring any, I guess we'll just have to--"

"Wait! He did!" Frannie interrupted quickly, stammering a little. "It's my fault, I said he could have it, but only if I got to come along--"

"So you did bring it," Greenie said, sighing like he was relieved. Maybe he would've caught hell from his boss if Ray hadn't done it; Ray had to remember that. "You brought it attached to an actual chick. Heh heh...cute. Points for style, Vecchio." He whirled on Frannie. "Hand it over, honey."

One of the gunmen crowded Frannie, and Ray mentally crossed his fingers, hoping that she'd shut up and just do it. She did. She shimmied her little leather skirt up and pulled down her panties, taking the skirt back down with them. Somehow nobody got even a glimpse of curly hair. A tiny bit of fabric fell around her high heels. She stepped out gracefully, picked it up with two fingers, and threw it in the gunman's face.

Ray flinched, but neither of the scum next to them moved a muscle. Then one of them laughed. "Oh, yeah, baby," he told Frannie. "You got the moves. You're gonna be a star."

"Now you," Greenie said to Ray. "Strip. Everything off."

Ray traded blank stares with Frannie for a minute, but the goon behind him jabbed him in the back with what had to be an automatic weapon. Ray shook himself out of his stupor and took off his jacket, his empty shoulder holster, and his t-shirt. He bent over at the waist and fumbled with his boots like he was having trouble getting them open, but really he was trying to gauge whether he could swing one hard enough to do some damage.

"Don't try anything smart, bozo," Greenie said. "The boss don't have any interest in you dead, but we'll do what we have to. Do what you're told and you'll walk out of here alive and well."

Ray's helplessness made him feel more naked than he was about to be. "What about Fraser?" he said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, sure," Greenie said, all generosity. "He'll walk out, too, if all three of youse behave."

Ray's gut told him the Jolly Green Giant was on the level. It was a weird ransom demand, but it was a hell of a lot easier than a cool million in small unmarked bills.

Anyway, you got used to weird if you hung around the 2-7 for a while. These creeps wanted women's makeup, Frannie's underwear, and some scruffy cop's clothes in return for Fraser? Fine. Ray'd hand over anything he owned, and then some.

He shucked his boots and socks, then unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them off. He would have to simmer down, wait for the right moment. He didn't like it, but he didn't have much choice. If it was just him, he'd have tried to take the guy on...but it wasn't just him. Frannie and Fraser were both counting on him, and the guy with the Uzi was way too close to Frannie right now. Maybe she was the second most annoying woman on Earth, but Ray'd kill _himself_ before he'd be the cause of her getting killed.

He was down to his shorts. The goon who had Frannie's underwear threw it at him. "Put this on."

Ray held up the tiny scrap of material. "What the hell is this?" It wasn't much more than a little triangle of lacy dark pink fabric with three skinny, ruffled strings attached.

"It's a thong," Frannie said defiantly.

Ray gave it a closer look. It probably looked awfully cute on Frannie. On Ray, though, it was just going to look ridiculous.

"Ew. It's..._pink_," he managed to say.

"Rose Romance," she corrected, like the name made a difference. Either way it was a girly color. Ugh.

"This isn't underwear, Frannie, this is an eyepatch."

"Bitch, bitch, bitch," Frannie hissed. "At least I was wearing underwear! That's more than you can say most days."

Like she would know anything about that. Ray gave her his snarly face and deliberately whipped his shorts down.

That shut her up. She clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes going wide, and she stared for a second like she couldn't help it. Finally, _finally _she looked away.

Huh. Well, jeez, of course she was going to get an eyeful. It wasn't like Ray had a convenient leather skirt, like she did. And with a goon standing over him with an Uzi, Ray didn't have a damn choice, did he? _Sorry, Frannie. _She'd just have to pretend she really was his sister.

Greenie let out a low, impressed whistle. "So it's true what they say about you Eye-talians, huh?"

"What is?"

"You know... Eye-talian stallions."

"Nah," Ray said. "It just rhymes."

Greenie looked at Ray, looked back at his goons, and looked off somewhere on the ceiling like he was trying to figure something out. Ray could practically see the wheels turning.

Maybe Ray had overestimated the guy's intelligence after all.

"Jeez, you're saying there's a lot of Eye-talians as hung as you?" Greenie finally said, looking even greener, especially around the gills.

Ray didn't want to know any more about this mook's thought processes, and he _really _didn't want to know why the guy had any interest in the size of his kielbasa. He stepped out of his shorts and fiddled with the thong until Greenie started making grumbling noises. Eventually, he figured it out, managed to get it on the right way, and pulled it up as far as it would go.

Yeah. Up. Sort of. The lace at the top edge tickled, but it wasn't scratchy. The thong was smooth inside and cool and really thin--silk, maybe. Of course Frannie'd wear silk.

The string part in the back was evil, though: it was giving him an atomic wedgie. Unfortunately, there was nowhere else for that little string to be; if he moved it, the front wouldn't stay up, and even when it was up, the front was _tiny. _It probably barely covered what Frannie needed to cover, and Ray had a lot more square inches there than any girl. Heck, Ray had a few more square inches there than your average guy. There was just no place to tuck all the parts that needed tucking.

He'd be better off stark naked, because at least then he wouldn't have a damn wedgie.

Frannie was still not looking at him below the shoulders, which was good, because Ray must've looked ridiculous with his dick only partly covered by the little patch of silk and his balls not really covered...well, at all. But Frannie wasn't meeting his eyes, either. She was staring at the floor, and her chin was quivering.

Ray couldn't stand that, damn it, her little pointed chin trembling like she was going to cry. He couldn't hack the crying-girl thing. "Well, this thong sucks, but at least I'm glad you don't wear a bra."

It worked; she looked right up into his eyes, and she looked mad. Mad was good. It sure beat crying all to hell.

"What? How do you know whether I--" she spluttered.

"Come on, Frannie! Everybody knows you're a one-woman bullpen weather report. On chilly days it's like a wet t-shirt contest at your desk."

"You--you--!" Wow. Frannie speechless--that was new.

"Knock it off, you two! The boss'll give you a better use for those overactive mouths." Greenie gave Ray a long, appraising look from head to toe, till Ray felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

"Hmph!" Greenie said, like he was dismissing Ray, and Ray could almost seehim thinking, _skinny!_ Ray gritted his teeth. How was that fair? The guy was a freakin' _tree_! Lieutenant Welsh would look skinny compared to him.

Greenie turned back to Frannie. "In the meantime, sugar," he said, pushing the makeup stuff across the desk towards her, "make him pretty. It's his film debut."

Frannie motioned for Ray to sit on the desk. Ray sat, settling his hands strategically in his lap.

"Okay, so you want, like, stage makeup?" she asked Greene.

Ray stared at her. He was glad she'd calmed down, but, jeez, how could she act so normal? Didn't she find any of this really weird? Then again, Frannie worked at the 2-7 every day. She'd seen her share of transvestite brides, Elvis impersonators, fighting butlers, murdering mimes.... Compared to that stuff, putting makeup on naked Ray probably didn't even register a blip on the weird-o-scope.

"Nah, just like you'd do your own every day," Greenie told her.

Frannie shrugged and picked up a sharp-looking pencil thing, uncapped it, pointed it at Ray, and zoomed in.

"Hey, watch out with that thing!" Ray tried to duck, but she grabbed a handful of his hair ruthlessly and held on tight.

"Shut up and sit still. I'm good at this."

So he gave in, because it was either that or get some hair pulled out. It wasn't easy to hold still, though, especially when she put the pencil right up to his eye.

"You don't want it poked?" she said in a distracted voice, like she was concentrating hard. "Then don't move a nerve."

Nerve, muscle, whatever. Ray froze, and Frannie let go of his hair and cupped his chin instead. She drew on him carefully with the pencil, right near his eyelashes, top and bottom. Turned out the pencil wasn't sharp at all, but soft and waxy. Ray breathed a little easier. Bracing her hand on his cheek, leaning real close to him, Frannie moved the pencil to his eyebrows, smoothing them with her fingers and putting a few quick strokes there, like an artist touching up a drawing. It felt weird.

Finally she put the pencil down, picked up a brush, and started brushing some powdery stuff all over his face. Her strokes were real gentle, almost tickly. Ray'd always assumed wearing makeup was one of those ways women suffered for beauty, like wearing high heels and pantyhose, but obviously he'd been wrong, 'cause this stuff actually felt good going on.

Frannie's hands were warm and soft on his face, and the gentle touches of the brush were like...hm...maybe like getting teased with a feather. Even the thing with the twisty brush on the end of it didn't faze him. With the tips of her fingers, Frannie carefully smudged around his eyes. An inch closer, and he'd be nosing the smooth warm skin between her breasts.

The thought was enough to send heat into his belly and down between his legs. Which, was that really a surprise? He was practically naked, she was practically in his lap, and goddamn it, she wasn't really his sister. Not to mention that he already had both hands on his cock. Ray forced himself to move his hands down to his sides, gripping the edge of the desk tightly with both of them, and tried to think about something other than how much his cock wanted to be touched.

By the time she was done with the lipstick, Ray's lips were tingly. He had discovered a deep appreciation for makeup. He also had an up-and-coming boner, which wasn't discouraged at all by the triangle of silk rubbing it or the thong skimming the crack of his ass. He sat as still as he could, because every movement brought him in closer contact with those turned-on feelings--and damn it, he was starting to want to come in closer contact with Frannie.

Okay, it had been a long time since he'd been this close to a woman, and Frannie's white satin shirt had four buttons open; he had plenty of time to count them. A string of little white pearls sketched a semicircle in the gap between the points of her shirt collar. Beneath it, he could see the bare curve of her breast. He was hyper-aware that she wasn't wearing any underwear under that tiny skirt, and the smell of her skin made him want to reach out and just pull her onto his cock.

That thought didn't help much. Or at all. His cock was hard now. It wasn't worried about the two gunmen or the Jolly Green Giant. It just wanted some, and now would be good, thank you. When Frannie finally slid away from him, he choked down a whimper.

Greenie came over and took a close look at Ray's face. "Nice job, sweetie," he said to Frannie. "He sure is pretty."

She scowled at him. "He was pretty before."

"Hey!" Ray said indignantly, but nobody seemed to hear him.

"I'll give you that," Greenie said. "I see why he works the scruffy image--he's got a real fine bone structure. But the bright lights wash you out. Especially blonds." He leered at Ray. "Yep, you'll do fine. I'd pinch your cheek, honey, but we don't want to spoil your makeup before your big scene."

Ray snarled at him, wishing his dick felt as helpless as he did. He wanted to take Greenie out, use him for a heavy bag, but there were those damned goons taking a bead on him with very big guns, so he had to resort to words. "What kind of game you trying to play?" He was probably whining, but he didn't care. He was a naked man wearing silk girly underwear that was giving him a happy snuggie, and he probably had more makeup on than the average drag queen in Boystown.

A guy had a right to be a little whiny at this point, didn't he?

"Move it." Greenie led them through a door which Ray'd taken to be a back exit, but which turned out to be the entrance to a darkened hallway with more doors. Ray figured they had to open into the adjoining building, which was supposedly vacant like most of the buildings backing up to this alley. The gunmen brought up the rear, and Ray tried to stay a step or two ahead of them so the one on the left would stop poking his naked back with the cold muzzle of his Uzi.

Greenie chose the last door in the hallway, opened it, and pulled Ray through quickly. Light stabbed at Ray's eyes. He squinted, and it took his eyes a minute to adjust. When he got them open again, the first thing he saw was Fraser. Alive. Thank God.

Fraser was tied to a chair under blistering hot lamps, and sweat was dripping down his face. His uniform was wrinkled and maybe even a little torn under the ropes. He looked like they'd been interrogating him--his hair was messed up and he had a bruise forming on his cheekbone--except there was duct tape over his mouth, which was a dumb way to try to get information out of a guy, now that Ray thought about it. So information wasn't exactly what they wanted.

But all Ray could think was, _thank God. _Fraser alive and well--and really pissed off--was the best thing he'd seen all day.

Greenie stepped aside, allowing Fraser a clear view of Ray and Frannie. Fraser's eyes went wide. Ray didn't even want to imagine what he must look like, pretty much stark naked except for a teensy bit of silk lace that wasn't hiding his hard-on worth a damn. And the makeup.

Christ, it couldn't be good.

 

And then there was Frannie getting pushed through the doorway behind Ray. Fraser had nerves of steel. Nothing scared him _except_ Frannie. He'd been sitting and sweating, sure, waiting for Ray to show up and help him kick some ass, but now? He had to be ready to blow a gasket.

"Fraser! You okay, buddy?"

Fraser seemed surprised to hear his voice. He looked at Ray with a sort of dazed expression, like he couldn't believe Ray was really Ray, not looking like that. Hell, Ray wasn't sure he believed it himself, but right now was _not _the time to think about that.

After a moment, Fraser gave a little I'm-okay nod. Immediately, something moved in a dark corner. It was apparently some kind of signal, because yet another goon, this one wearing a pinstripe suit like some kind of Thirties gangster--and who was he trying to kid?--stepped forward and ripped the tape off Fraser's mouth.

Ray winced. He knew what that felt like, from the _Henry Allen,_ and the goon was a lot rougher than Fraser had been with Ray then. "Hey!" Ray snapped, hoping to distract the guy from hurting Fraser any more. "What the hell's going down here?"

"You are, my dear Mr. Vecchio." A thin, white-haired man stepped from the shadows into the ring of light, straightening the already very straight cuff of his suit jacket. To look at him, you wouldn't have known the guy was an arch-criminal. He had a completely ordinary face, wire-rimmed glasses. He looked like a museum curator or a librarian, something dumb and harmless like that.

Ray recognized the son of a bitch, and fury erased what little good sense he had left. "Thorwald! You--you fucking monster--urgh!" He got stopped in midair, choking like a dog at the end of a leash. He wasn't going to get very far with one arm wrenched behind his back and the barrel of an automatic weapon up his left nostril, but that didn't stop him from trying. "How the fuck did you get out?"

"That would be telling," Thorwald said. "Let's just say the Cook County correctional system is so inefficient these days. They lose track of people very easily."

"What do you want with Fraser? Couldn't find any teenagers to molest this week, so now you're kidnapping Canadians?"

Thorwald _tsk_ed at him. "I thought I was innocent until proven guilty, Detective."

"You havebeen found guilty, you scumbag."

"Not of kidnapping Canadians--not yet, anyway. Until my very unjust conviction, I ran a very successful adult entertainment business, which has been neglected in my absence and now needs something to revitalize it. I've decided that revitalization should take the form of a blockbuster film, one in which you're about to play a starring role." Merrill Thorwald raised an elegant hand toward Fraser. "Tell him, my long-winded friend."

The room was quiet.

Oh, Jesus. If Fraser couldn't even say it...then...the magic word had to be "snuff." The sleazebucket was planning to kill them on film. A splinter of panic lodged in the back of Ray's brain. "Fraser?"

Fraser cleared his throat. "I believe it is Mr. Thorwald's intention to have us perform in his next film," he said tightly.

He didn't say anything about getting killed. Ray was relieved for about half a second. Then what Fraser _had _said registered. "Perform. _Perform?"_

"Yes."

"Fraser, the guy makes _porno flicks."_

Fraser just nodded. His eyes looked...sad. Which, jeez, what was that about? Fraser should be ripping mad, like Ray.

Yeah, Ray's panic had melted right into anger, because nobody, least of all some scumbag, had a right to put a _sad_ look on Fraser's face. "He thinks we'll perform in something like that? Over his dead body!"

"Unfortunately, it appears that we are currently the parties most at risk." Fraser tilted his head meaningfully toward the far side of the room. Now that Ray'd been in the room a while, he could see better, and what he saw didn't inspire any great sense of security. Stacked up along the walls was enough firepower to overthrow a third-world dictator. There were crates of what looked like ammo, maybe even explosives and stuff. There were long, vicious-looking machine guns and rifles propped up in rows, and there were two hulking goons almost as big as Greenie hugging the wall, armed to the gills.

"Why should we cooperate? He'll kill us anyway and dump our bodies." Ray growled that, because it was the only way to keep his voice from shaking.

"How little you understand me, Detective Vecchio," Thorwald chided. "I am a man of creative artistry. Killing in cold blood is so...unimaginative."

"That's how you explain capping Gorman? _Unimaginative?"_

Thorwald's brow wrinkled into an expression of disgust. "No, that was making a virtue of necessity, I'm afraid. Mr. Gorman had an unfortunate tendency to give information to the police. He...retired. Permanently." He sighed dramatically. "You, on the other hand, I still have a use for. Since I had the enormous good fortune to have been arrested by two such photogenic policemen, I determined to capitalize on that luck at the first opportunity, and here we are. I wouldn't want to deprive the world of your considerable...charms. Unless, of course, you prove uncooperative."

"What the fuck is he talking about, Fraser?"

Fraser cleared his throat. "I believe the theory is that once we have been filmed...er, having relations, and the video is distributed to all and sundry, we will be discredited in the eyes of both our fellow officers and the criminal element. Not to, ah, not to mention the general public."

Thorwald smiled condescendingly at Fraser like he was a trained seal or something. "Precisely, Constable. I do like my work to see wide release. Trust me, you gentlemen will be a hit."

Fraser refused to meet Ray's eyes. "I expect he thinks this would dissuade our colleagues in arms from attempting to track him down and return him to jail to await his sentencing on his recent conviction."

"Oh, it will dissuade them, you can be sure of that. You two will never eat a doughnut in this town again," Thorwald said. "Or anywhere else, for that matter."

Frannie grabbed Ray's arm. She was staring at Thorwald with a totally bewildered expression. "Doughnuts? What do doughnuts have to do with anything?" she spluttered. "Why not bagels? Muffins? Croissants?"

Ray rolled his eyes. "Frannie, it's a whaddyacallit, a meta-something."

"Metaphor," Fraser put in helpfully.

"Yeah, that's it. He means we'll never work as cops again. People see that, cops getting off on film, they lose any respect they had for the PD. The brass gotta blame somebody." He shrugged. "Guess who they blame?"

"Oh," she said in a small voice.

Yeah. Even Frannie would probably lose her job when she showed up in Thorwald's little fuck flick. There'd be no way to prove that she was forced, and even if she could prove it, the damage would be done. But...wait. Wait a minute. Ray'd forgotten something.

Frannie wasn't supposed to be here. It was supposed to be Ray coming here all by his lonesome. So who did Thorwald intend Ray and Fraser to have relations with?

Ray looked down at himself. Saw the eyepatch that Frannie called underwear _not _covering him, even though he was softening up. Saw a smudge of blusher, or whatever that stuff was called, on his hand where he'd rubbed his face.

Shit--the makeup. The underwear. _Ray_ was supposed to be the girl?

Fuck. No.

Ray swallowed hard, afraid to look up and meet Fraser's eyes.

But Fraser had apparently known all along, because he said, real quietly, "I believe it's time for Miss Vecchio to leave."

"Miss_ Vecchio?" _Thorwald repeated, turning his ugly leer on Ray. "What relation?"

"She's my sister," Ray mumbled.

"Your _sis_ter? Oh, now that's interesting."

"It's time for her to leave," Fraser said firmly.

Fraser could be a pretty commanding guy, but he cut no ice with Thorwald, who laughed. "What, and have her immediately bring the police down upon us? I think not, Constable Fraser. Granted, the young lady's presence was unexpected, but she's a welcome addition to our little troupe."

Ray heard Frannie catch her breath. Her small hand crept into his, and he squeezed it gently. He wished to God he could do something a lot more comforting, like shoving Thorwald's face into the floor and handcuffing him, but that wasn't an option right now, so Ray had to settle for holding her hand.

"Don't worry, Constable," Thorwald was saying. "Her performance will be a priceless enhancement to my masterpiece--which, come to think of it, will require a catchy title." The scumbag scratched his chin like he was thinking, but it looked fake, affected, like all his gestures. "What shall I call it? How about _Three Fucking Cops?"_

"Good one, Boss," Greenie piped up from his post near the door. "Or how about _Three Pigs Get Poked?"_

"Oh, that's quite good. I like the way you think, Mr. Greene."

The guy's name really was Greene? Jeez, the weirdness was multiplying or something.

"I'm not a cop," Frannie said, and she sounded close to tears. "Not yet, anyway, I mean, but I was thinking about it. If only the hat wasn't, you know, _required_."

"Quite all right, my dear. You're very cute, and--what's the expression, Greene?"

"Fuckable, Boss," Greene said helpfully.

"Quite." Thorwald grinned his slimy white grin.

Frannie whimpered, and her nails dug into Ray's hand painfully.

Ray spat on the floor. "You won't get away with this, Thorwald. She's a cop's sister. The Chicago PD will hunt you down like the cockroach you are."

The creep only laughed. "Why, Detective. Don't you know what they say about incest? It's best kept in the family."

"You don't need her for this!" Ray said. "She's not a cop."

"She's a cop's sister, as you pointed out so astutely. That's good enough. In fact, it's better. When I send the tape out, the entire city of Chicago is going to get to watch you do your sister _and_ your partner."

"You are one sick bastard!" Ray snarled.

"Artiste," Thorwald corrected. "Sick artiste." He chuckled softly. "The difference between me and most mad geniuses is I know it," Thorwald said. "It doesn't bother me in the least. What does bother me is how much of my time you're wasting. Don't you know that in the film business time is money?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Ray could see beads of sweat running down Fraser's face. "It would be best if you turned yourself in now, Mr. Thorwald," Fraser said. "You will receive the full equity of justice under the law."

"Oh, don't be naïve, Constable. I'm slated to be sentenced under Judge Eleanora Gomez-Garcia."

Ray swallowed. "She's a hanging judge, Fraser."

"Actually, Ray, I believe lethal injection is the usual method of execution here. I don't believe anyone's been hanged by the State of Illinois since--"

"Fraser. Zip. It's an expression."

"Oh. So it is."

Thorwald looked at them. "Do you two do this all the time?"

They glanced at each other and shrugged.

"You don't know the half of it," Frannie said.

Thorwald gave them a look like _they_ were the weirdos. Go figure. Then he waved a hand like he was wiping away that little interlude. "My conviction isn't for a capital crime, in any event. However, according to my attorneys, it's likely that I'll be sentenced to a very long term of imprisonment, but a more immediate problem would be surviving more than a few months at the hands of my fellow inmates. Oddly enough, even some very hardened criminals seem to take exception to those in my line of work."

"Pimping kids, you mean!" Ray let go Frannie's hand and lunged forward, only to be snapped back, yelping, as the goon holding his other arm twisted it hard. Obviously the scumbag behind him was perfectly willing to break his arm. Ray wouldn't be much help to Fraser and Frannie with a broken arm, so he willed himself to hold still. He settled for snarling at Thorwald, "You sick son of a bitch!"

Thorwald made a show of ignoring him. "My best bet is to thoroughly discredit the Chicago PD while I'm still at large. If they catch me, I'll have very little to lose. So you see, you won't succeed in talking me out of this. What's more, you can save your own lives by participating."

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what their answer had to be.

Ray whispered, "Fraser. I think we're going to have to do it. He don't need more than two of us alive to make his sleazy film. Remember, he didn't waste any time killing my snitch."

Which, Gorman was a lowlife, yeah, but he'd put Ray onto Fraser's location--and paid for it with his life.

"I know. I saw it...happen." Fraser was ashen underneath the sweat and the heat, and Ray's throat tightened. Oh, God--Fraser'd had to watch that? Watching a guy get capped in front of him wouldn't have been easy for any cop, but for Fraser, who believed in people, who always seemed to find a way to save people at the last minute, it had to have been sheer hell.

A fuck film, even with them starring, just didn't carry that much weight by comparison. Ray felt the fight go out of his muscles, and the goon on his arm eased up in response.

Thorwald seemed to be on the same wavelength. "If Mr. Gorman's early demise didn't sufficiently impress you, Constable, I shall have to have one of these lovely young people retired next and you can watch that. I think you'll decide to fuck the other one to save his or her life. What do you think?"

The look on Fraser's face was something Ray didn't ever want to see again, not if he lived to be a hundred. Which, from this vantage point, sure didn't look like it was going to happen.

"If you kill us, you won't have anything left to bargain with," Fraser said in what he probably thought was a reasonable voice. It kind of stuck in his throat, though, which told Ray that Fraser was really scared. And Fraser, he didn't get really scared, not like Ray. Fraser didn't have freakouts, or lose his lunch after seeing a body in the morgue like Ray did. The guy was steel-plated, unshakeable.

So if Fraser was scared, it was probably way past time for Ray to freak out.

Except if Ray freaked out now, Thorwald would probably decide Ray was too much trouble to bother with, and he'd shoot him right there, and then Ray wouldn't be able to do anything to help Frannie or Fraser, and...

"...and if I have to shoot your pretty boyfriend, here, Constable, I'll just have to substitute another actor for him. Did you know Mr. Greene, here, used to be quite the adult film star? Yes. He specialized in deflowering virgins of both sexes. He quite enjoyed that work.

"He preferred the quick and painful method, I'm afraid.

"If Detective Vecchio doesn't survive this conversation, you and the lovely lady will just have to take your chances with Mr. Greene." He grinned his smarmy grin. "I'm quite set on a threesome, now."

Thorwald made a clucking sound. "Most creative of you, Detective, to bring your sister into this, and such a little cutie, at that. Is she by any chance a virgin?"

Ray snarled at him, wanting to wipe that creepy grin off his face permanently. He strained against the goon's tight grip, hurting his own arm a little more.

"However, if you cooperate," Thorwald continued, not waiting for an answer, "you'll merely enjoy the intimate attentions of your two attractive companions, and then you'll be set free unharmed. Your choice, Constable. Fuck them both or take your chances on which one I'll kill, and how quickly. Perhaps I'll have them watch Mr. Greene take you before I, ah, dispatch them to the hereafter."

"No!" Fraser said between gritted teeth.

"Come, children, who's going to cooperate? The quicker you answer, the quicker I'll see to it that all three of you live. I'm not a particularly patient man, you know."

"All right, all right, we'll do it!" Ray said quickly. He couldn't stand the thought of that tree of a man raping Fraser--or Frannie, for that matter, though Frannie could probably survive it. But Ray figured there was a decent chance Fraser wouldn't be able to live with that kind of thing, even if he didn't bleed to death.

Plus there was the part about Ray not wanting to die just yet.

Especially not this way.

He refused to fucking _die _in makeup and Frannie's thong.

Ray stole a glance at Fraser. He was straining against the ropes that bound him, and his eyes were dark and hollow-looking.

Shit. Now that Ray had agreed, he was apparently still going to have to talk Fraser into it. God, was it so bad to think of being with Ray that Fraser would put it on a par with being killed? Couldn't he just close his eyes and think of Canada?

"Surely you're not still resisting, are you, Constable?" Thorwald motioned to the goon behind Fraser, and the guy hauled Fraser up by his ropes. Fraser stumbled a bit, but gained his feet and stood swaying, like maybe he'd been sitting there too long and he was seeing stars. They'd obviously smacked him around some before Ray got there.

Ray wasn't sure his own legs were going to hold him for long. He pulled in a deep breath to try to get his strength up, but the air was heavy with the damp thick smell of woman and leather and...Fraser. Jesus, God...Fraser. _Please don't resist,_ Ray willed. _Don't let them hurt you any more._

One of the goons stepped over to Fraser with his machine gun and raised the butt toward his head.

"I'd hate to have to mark you up before your big film debut," Thorwald said. "I was planning to go with a romantic theme, especially given the presence of the young lady, not to mention how lovely our sweet transvestite turned out in his lingerie." He rubbed his chin like he was thinking about it. "But we can switch to B&amp;D if you're really determined. That market's a big seller, you know. I could make a _killing._"

Oh, shit, was he threatening to hit Fraser in the head and then make him the bottom boy in some sick dominance scene? Fraser was plenty wacky already; Ray didn't want to think about how far off his rocker this gig had the potential to push him, even without heavy blows to the head.

Ray couldn't think of a way out of it. But he figured there had to be some way around the worst possibilities. Thorwald just wanted them exposed, humiliated. He really didn't seem to want them dead unless they gave him no other choice.

Ray was _all_ about choices.

"Stop, stop! Romantic is good. Romantic is...we can do that," he told Thorwald. "I'll talk to him."

Thorwald smiled and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'll give you two minutes," he said magnanimously.

Ray thought fast. Thorwald clearly wanted somebody besides Frannie to get fucked. But Ray would bet his paycheck that the goons didn't care who rode who. So Ray had to make sure he was the bottom boy.

Straight men--even ones like Fraser, who'd been up in the Northern Areas when they handed out normal--didn't take well to a cock up their ass. If Ray fucked Fraser, it was a safe bet Constable Teflon would never be able to look him in the eye again. There was only so much anybody could forgive. Anal rape? Not one of those things. But maybe if Fraser was the one on top he could live with that.

"Fraser," he said urgently. "C'mon. We can do this. You can do me."

Fraser's blue eyes looked horrified. "Ray--"

Oh, no. There was no way Ray would put up with Fraser feeling guilty, not over something Ray would've begged him for if he'd ever had the balls.

A horrible thought rose up with the last of his morning coffee. Maybe it wasn't guilt Fraser was feeling. What if Fraser couldn't...or worse, what if he _wouldn't_?

Ray felt like he was going to heave. He forced his gorge back down. Even if the idea didn't gross Fraser out--which Ray was sure it did--what if Fraser decided to be heroic and _not_ fuck Ray?

Ray could hear the bitchfight ringing in his ears even now: _Oh, yes, you will. Oh, no, I won't_. Just thinking about what could happen if they didn't get it right had Ray sucking air through his teeth. Thorwald would kill one or all of them. Thorwald might kill _Fraser._ And he wouldn't stop there; he was bound to kill Frannie, too. She was an innocent civilian, and she was Ray's responsibility as a cop and as her stand-in brother. It didn't matter what he had do, what he had to endure. He had to get this exactly right, and to do that he needed Fraser's cooperation.

So Ray'd better grow some balls, because it was time to start begging.

"I'm okay with it, Fraser, I swear," he said in a rush. Fresh sweat sprang out of his pores. It wasn't like he was against telling the truth, but this was a very personal truth.

"No, Ray, no, I couldn't do such a thing to you--"

Fraser could be the most oblivious guy on the planet when he felt like it. He ignored all those women panting after him; he could sure as hell ignore Ray doing it, too, right? So Ray had to take the chance. He'd have to count on Fraser not to hate him. "I've, um. I've done it before."

"--Ray?!"

Okay, he was R-O-N-G wrong. He'd thought nothing could shock Fraser. Now, he'd gone and done the impossible. All things considered, it didn't feel like the big accomplishment that it should.

"Yeah. Honest. I _want_ you to.... I just...okay, look, I want you." He was such an idiot. And so was Fraser, damn it. They _had_ to do it, for no reason other than to save their own lives--not to mention poor Frannie, who was looking up at both of them with soft, confused eyes. "Don't make me beg you for this, okay?"

Fraser was just staring, looking _through_ him, maybe, and not speaking.

So Ray begged. "Please, Fraser." Fear made him too loud, too hard.

"All right." Fraser didn't quite meet his eyes.

It sure wasn't all right, but it would have to do.

"Just in time," Thorwald piped up. "You used up every last second of those two minutes, Detective. Risky but effective. Let's see how well you perform in the main event." He pointed towards the other side of the room, and the goon who had hold of Ray's arm turned him and pushed him across the room like he weighed nothing. The goon who had hold of Fraser's ropes did likewise, and behind them Ray heard Greenie urging Frannie along way more politely, thank God.

The goons brought them up short by the side of a huge bed. Ray hadn't even noticed it before, but he did now; it was made up with dark sheets and pillows, but no blankets, and it was surrounded by big lights like he'd seen down at the TV news station, the kind of lights used for filming stuff.

One goon stooped to put a plug in a floor socket, and the lights all went on. They were blindingly bright for a minute, but luckily, Ray'd snapped his eyes shut at the right moment, so he recovered pretty fast.

Fraser was right behind Ray. He leaned his head over Ray's shoulder while the goons were untying him. "It's very brave of you, Ray," he whispered.

"No, Fraser. It's not."

"Well, of course it is."

Ray sighed loudly. "We'll argue about it later. I just hope we're still alive to get the chance." It looked like he was going to need all the stamina he could muster for this. He sure as hell wasn't going to waste his energy on one of their dumb arguments.

"We will, Ray," Fraser said, sounding confident. His chin brushed Ray's shoulder, and his arms came around Ray, almost like an embrace. But Fraser was just rubbing the life back into his freed wrists. Still, it felt like a hug, so Ray'd take it.

Tilting his head back until it could almost rest on Fraser's strong shoulder, Ray closed his eyes. God, this was almost like it happened in Ray's most private dreams. Fraser'd hold him like this and they'd be together....

Except it wasn't going to be like that. Apparently it took six or more gun-toting goons and a nutjob criminal "artiste" to make Fraser even consider touching Ray like this.

Well, it was all Ray was ever going to get, so he'd better take it and move on. It was still more than he'd ever expected.

Who knew he'd ever owe any gratitude to the most morally bankrupt scum of the earth?

Said scum gestured at him impatiently. "On the bed, Detective. Get comfortable; we're almost ready for the first take. Constable, if you please?"

Ray flopped down on the mattress and pulled Fraser down after him. Fraser squirmed around next to Ray and started undoing his bootlaces. Ray wondered if Fraser really had caved and was going to do this without a fight, or if he just couldn't stand the thought of putting his shoes on the furniture.

Frannie hovered nervously near the other side of the bed, still clutching her purse, which struck Ray as kind of funny. Too bad she didn't have a gun in there. She'd be brave enough to try using it. He didn't know how good her aim was, but right now he'd take his chances.

"Sit down, Frannie, you're making me nervous," he said over his shoulder. He didn't look over there, but he heard her set her purse on the floor, and a moment later he felt her settle on the bed.

Ray was more worried about Fraser at the moment. He put his hand up to Fraser's face, stroked his cheek. Fraser's eyes snapped shut. His lashes were black against his pale cheeks.

"It won't be so bad," Ray promised. "I'll make you...I mean, Frannie and me, we'll make you feel good."

Fraser's eyes opened, and Ray saw something unexpected in them, something like...tenderness? Sadness, maybe.

"Oh, Ray," Fraser breathed. "Ray. You'd do anything, wouldn't you, to save our lives?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Ray said. "Thought you knew that, Frase."

Fraser nodded after a minute. "Yes. I did. I do."

"Help him out of that ridiculous uniform, children," Thorwald's voice said impatiently from the darkness.

Ray aimed a scowl over his shoulder at Thorwald. _No dissing The Uniform, asshole,_ he thought as loud as he could. He put that creep out of his mind, turned back to Fraser, and reached for the Sam Browne. "This first, right? And the white string-thing, the lanyard?"

Fraser nodded like he couldn't trust himself to speak.

Frannie's hand went to the lanyard. She was a quick study, getting it loosened in a few seconds and starting to unstring it from the whole getup. "So you know how The Uniform goes together?" she asked Ray, sounding a little surprised.

"Yeah, I wore Turnbull's once as a disguise," Ray said offhandedly, because he damn sure wasn't going to let on about the thousand times he'd dreamed about getting Fraser out of his uniform. He got the Sam Browne unwound from Fraser's body and started on the tunic, collar first.

Fraser shifted around as needed to help Ray and Frannie get the tunic and pants off him. Frannie shoved the pants and suspenders over on the end of the bed. Ray had the tunic. He saw Fraser's eyes on him and realized he just couldn't crumple up and toss The Uniform, especially now, when he would have had a good excuse not to fuss with it.

Some things you just didn't do.

He turned one shoulder inside out and folded it carefully over the other one, just like his mom taught him to fold his Sunday jacket when he was a kid. He folded it over again and reached over to put it down near the head of the bed, where he figured it had the best chance of staying out of trouble.

"Oh, that's good, Detective Vecchio, that's very good," Thorwald said from somewhere in the shadows. "So romantic. That uniform is red as a rose. Why do the Mounties wear red, do you suppose?"

What a time to get all historical and irrelevant. Ray didn't answer him.

Fraser did, though. His voice was kind of gruff. "The red symbolizes the Queen, to whose service we are sworn."

When Thorwald stopped laughing, he said, "I love it! Put it on the pillow. You can fuck on the Queen's red jacket. Maybe we'll send her a copy of the tape."

That raised the color in Fraser's face. He looked like he was going to burst a blood vessel.

"Ignore him, Fraser. He's just trying to get a rise out of you, and you're playing right into his hands."

Fraser shook himself. "Of course you're right, Ray."

What a time for Fraser to finally come out with those words. Ray'd hang onto that memory and take it out later to savor it--if he survived long enough. "Hey, QE2 cares about her subjects, right?"

"I believe she does." He said that real seriously and intently, like people said the Credo in Unum Deum thing in Church.

"I think you're more important than a jacket, and I'm sure she does, too."

"Understood." Fraser didn't smile, but the look in his eyes told Ray he'd said the right thing.

"Okay, come on," Ray said around the lump in his throat. He plucked at the hem of Fraser's Henley. "Let's get the rest of this off of you."

They got him stripped down real quick, and then, wow--there Fraser was, all almost-six-feet, one-hundred-eighty pounds of him, with his big arms, deep chest, long legs, and all that creamy skin. He had no obvious hair on his body except for a dark dusting under his arms and around his groin. How did a guy have a right to be that smooth?

And as for his cock...how did anyone have a right to look that perfect? It was rosy and plump and uncut and perfectly in proportion with the rest of him, and Ray thought he knew just what Fraser's smooth, round balls would feel like, cupped in his hands.

But as great as Fraser's body was, his face was even more stunning. Even bruised and streaked with cold sweat, Fraser was movie-star handsome, his eyes a sapphire blue that anyone else would have to get out of a box of contacts.

Fraser was downright gorgeous. Ray'd known that, he'd known, and yet he never thought he'd have Fraser laid out in front of him like a feast before. It was too much to take in at a time like this. So that was probably why Ray's hands were shaking and why he couldn't think of a damn thing to say. And why his own cock was harder than ever. Hell, looking at _that?_ Anybody's cock would get hard enough to cut diamonds.

God. If only they were alone.

If only this was Fraser's choice.

But it wasn't; the pinched look on Fraser's face made that clear. And they weren't alone, because there was Thorwald clucking about the time, there were the camera guys and the gunmen, and more immediately, there was Frannie, both hands over her mouth, hyperventilating and trying not to gawk at Fraser and mostly succeeding. Which, that was pretty impressive, because Ray sure couldn't look away.

At least not until Fraser cleared his throat and said "Ray!" about fourteen times.

"Wha--oh. Yeah. Sorry." He grabbed his right hand with his left so it wouldn't grab Fraser, and he tried to gather up his scattered wits.

Fraser heaved himself up to sitting and said, in a concerned voice, "Ray, why don't you lie down? Rest a minute." He put his hand on Ray's bare chest, and pushed, real gently, and of course Ray toppled right over, because when did he not roll over when Fraser said to?

He took some deep breaths, felt himself calming just enough. "Whoa. Sorry, buddy." Fraser didn't deserve to have his not-really-all-that-straight partner stare at him like a starving man looked at prime rib.

"It's all right, Ray," Fraser said in a soft voice. "I just...you weren't...that wasn't one of your...?"

"Freakouts?" Ray heaved a big breath and let it out fast. "Nah, not really. Just. You're...um..." _the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. _But he didn't say it, he only thought it, because he didn't want to see _Fraser_ freak out. That he could happily die without ever seeing.

"Ray, perhaps I should be the one to be penetrated," Fraser said, and wow, how could Fraser have misread Ray that bad?

"You think that was some kind of straight-guy freakout, don't you?"

"Well, you did look a little shellshocked...." Fraser sounded kind of confused.

"Yeah, well, not for the reason you think. Come on, Fraser, I knew you had a cock under that Mountie uniform before I said I wanted you to do me. I still want you to." Fraser nodded, but he didn't look totally convinced.

"Jeez, Fraser, look at me," Ray said. "You've seen me freak out. You think I could freak out and stay this excited?"

Fraser's hand twitched up to his eyebrow. His eyes flickered over Ray quickly as though he was afraid to take a good look. "Oh. Well, ah, no, I suppose you've got a point."

"I got more than a point." Ray propped himself up on his elbows.

Fraser drew a shaky breath. "Yes, I can see that."

Yeah, Fraser could see pretty much everything--at least, everything that a three-inch-wide scrap of see-through lace couldn't hide--and everything Fraser was seeing, Frannie could see, too. And so could the video camera, a sicko filmmaker, and a half-dozen goons with heavy weapons. Ray would have been embarrassed, maybe, if he wasn't so fucking scared.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, let's pick up the pace," Thorwald said from somewhere out of sight. "I'd like to print this with minimal editing. Miss Vecchio?"

Frannie was suddenly there, next to Ray, having crawled over on her hands and knees, and she was quivering so hard the bed shook. Her eyes were big, frightened.

Ray pushed up to his knees and put his arms around her. He hugged her tight. "Frannie, look, I know you don't..." Christ. He couldn't say that aloud without blowing his cover. "Look, I know you and I fight like...cats and dogs most of the time. You do know I care about you, don't you?"

"Sure, bro. I care about you, too, you big idiot." Her voice shook, but she answered like he really was her brother, so natural. She was good. Frannie'd never given him a moment's worry about his cover; she took her duty to protect her real brother very seriously, and even though she seemed like a ditz sometimes, she really wasn't. Ray knew that.

His throat went kind of funny. She was close to him, she was close, and she still smelled so good, and her blouse was still half-unbuttoned, and she _still _had no damn underwear on under that teensy leather skirt--which, Ray was very aware of that, because he had her underwear...sort of on.

He let out that half-strangled whimper again, because how much was a guy supposed to be able to take, after all? His cock was leaking all over the lace triangle that no longer made even a pretense of covering his modesty, not that he had any modesty left just now.

"As you begin, I have some introductory comments," Thorwald intoned from behind the camera. He was standing where Ray couldn't see him. "You see, this little film is not merely my ticket out of jail. It is an artistic statement."

"I'll give you an artistic kick in the head, you asshole," Ray said under his breath, ignoring Fraser's warning look. Frannie tensed up in his arms.

"Sh, sh," Thorwald said, totally calm, like he either didn't hear Ray or didn't care what Ray said. "We all wear costumes. We all wear masks. What is makeup if not an attempt to appear different than you are, to emphasize some features and play down others?" He lowered his voice to tell the camera guy, "Close-up on Vecchio's face. I want to see the makeup. Good."

Ray made a point of scowling his ugliest scowl.

Thorwald raised his voice again. "What is clothing? Is it an attempt to hide the body or to call attention to it?

"Your scruffy garb, Detective--why do you wear that particular style? An attempt to appear nondescript, so you can fool people into thinking you are not dangerous to them, that you won't arrest them. That you are, perhaps, one of them?

"And the Mountie's--that red jacket is an attention getter if I ever saw one. But it's quite the opposite of your habitual costume, isn't it, Mr. Vecchio? It's a symbol of how your Mountie partner is not just an ordinary person. He's not from around here; he's not even an American. He wears that Sergeant Preston identity like a flag, doesn't he?

"So what is he, then, once we've stripped him of that red flag? What are you, Detective, once your Everyman costume is gone? What if we put you into the uniform of a common whore, someone you might otherwise arrest on the street?

"Who--what--are you then?"

Ray gritted his teeth. He didn't think Thorwald really wanted an answer.

"Easy, Ray," Fraser said quietly into his ear.

"All right. Cue the action," Thorwald said, snapping his fingers. "You three on the bed--look alive. It trumps the alternative, if you catch my meaning."

Yeah. If Ray thought about that, he might have a freakout for real. He sought Fraser's eyes with his. "Help, Frase. Get this thong-thing off me." Doing it himself would mean letting go of Frannie, and she was trembling in his arms, really shaking, so he wasn't going to.

"I...I...don't think I..." Fraser said.

"Please, Fraser. This thing is...it's bothering me, it's irritating, and it's, trust me, it's making me feel worse than naked. Naked's okay, naked's normal, I'm naked every day at some point, but I don't put on girly things ever. Bad enough I got Frannie's makeup on, you know, but this thing's humiliating...." Okay, he was doing that blithering thing that Fraser sometimes called him on. "Please, Frase."

Fraser seemed to get it. "Oh. I'm sor--of course." He reached his hand up slowly, so carefully, and took hold of the top edge of the silk, which put his fingers within inches of the dripping head of Ray's cock. Ray's breath caught in his throat.

Frannie apparently glanced down at what Fraser was doing, because she gasped, let go of Ray, and backed away against the pillows.

Light glinted off metal or glass from beyond the edge of the bed, and Ray realized it had to be one of the camera goons adjusting a lens for a close-up. Oh, joy.

Fraser's fingers brushed against his groin, touched his pubic hair, so close, God. Fraser got hold of the maddening thong-thing and slid it down, all the way down his legs and off.

Ray groaned aloud as his cock sprang up, freed, impossibly stiffer. God, he really needed to be touched.

Maybe they were clicking as partners again, because Fraser seemed to realize what Ray needed. His hand hovered over Ray's cock. "Ah, I don't know what you'd like..." Fraser started to say.

Somewhere behind the bright spotlight, a small sound echoed: someone clicking the safety off of a handgun.

"Christ, we're _doing_ it, Thorwald!" Ray said. "Call off your goddamn goons, will you? If we're going to do it, we're going to have to stay hard at least for a few minutes, and I'm not so good at that when someone's holding a gun on me."

He heard the sound of the safety being flipped back on.

"You just get to work, Detective, and I'll worry about the guns. If you perform adequately, I'll make sure none of my boys gets an itchy trigger finger. Is that a deal?"

"Yeah, deal."

"Well, then, I suggest you get to it. And make it good." He chuckled nastily. "If you don't make it _very _good, you'll do as many takes as necessary until you get it."

"All right. All right." Ray's hands were shaking. He reached toward Fraser.

Fraser swallowed hard. For a moment, they were both frozen there, staring at each other. The only sound was the faint buzz of the camera, recording the moment for posterity.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" It was Frannie, tsk-tsking in exasperation. "Men!" She scooted back over towards Ray.

"Frannie?"

"Let me help," she said. "Obviously this is going to be, uh, hard for you two, because it's just, well...hard."

Ray groaned. She had no idea how _hard_.... He couldn't help glancing down at his cock.

Frannie's gaze followed his, then she flushed and looked away. "I mean difficult. But I'm a woman...I can help out with a few things."

"God, Frannie," Ray whispered, "I hate to do this to you. You don't deserve this."

She slid up next to him on the bed. "It's okay, Ray, really. I won't hold any of this against you. Promise."

"It's my fault you're--"

She cut him off. "No, it's not. It's mine. You tried to get me to stay behind. Sometimes I don't act like it, maybe, but I'm an adult, Ray. I'm capable of making my own mistakes--and owning up to them."

He sighed, then nodded, feeling oddly proud of her. And damn it, he reminded himself, she wasn't really his sister. He could figure out what to do with a beautiful girl in a leather mini, a half-unbuttoned blouse, and no underwear...without damaging his brain too much, couldn't he?

He reached for her and she slinked right into his arms. "Okay, so kiss me," she said. So he did. Sweet. She was...sweet. His cock thought so, too; it immediately began smearing up the front of her leather skirt with precome.

Behind Frannie, Fraser was moving, tugging at Ray's arm.

"Ray, you shouldn't have to..."

Ray stopped kissing Frannie and looked up.

"Someone's got to kiss her, Fraser. This ain't gonna be a rape."

"No, ah, no, of course not." Fraser sighed. "Uh, well...actually, it is a rape, just not one perpetrated by us. Well. That is to say..."

"Quit while you're behind, Fraser. I don't think the philo-whatsical implications are anything we should be thinking about right now."

"What would you suggest...?"

"I _suggest_ we get on with the show. Make it look good enough to save our lives and then get on with said lives. Because not getting on with them is not a good option."

Fraser swallowed hard. "Very sensible of you, Ray," he said. But Christ, Ray thought, did Fraser have to look like a man going to his doom?

Ray thought about it for a moment while he kissed Frannie and cupped her breasts through the silky shirt.

Fraser didn't want to do Ray. Fraser sure as hell didn't want to do Frannie. Ray'd seen Fraser attracted to people before, but even then he always seemed kind of detached and thoughtful and sad about them, and he never seemed to get anywhere with them. People chased Fraser, but he pretty much ran away from everybody who did that; Ray'd seen it happen dozens of times.

So was Fraser just asexual, like some small percentage of people supposedly were? A guy with genes like he must have, genes that made him beautiful, strong, and smart--he couldn't be one of those people who just didn't want sex, could he? Nature couldn't be that colossally stupid.

No, Ray decided, it couldn't. He watched enough Nova and Discovery Channel to know that Nature was smart. It had to be that Fraser was just really, really choosy. He was probably looking for a girl as phenomenal as he was.

Yeah, that made sense.

So, being a normal guy--heck, an exceptional guy--Fraser would be able to do this. He'd get it up, because he had a cock, and that was how cocks behaved.

And C) Fraser wouldn't have said he'd do it if he knew he couldn't, because Fraser had that whole not-lying thing down pat. So maybe Ray just had to direct the action a little bit, because if he didn't take the initiative, Thorwald would, and they sure as hell didn't need Thorwald calling the moves.

Ray nudged Frannie towards him. "So kiss her," he told Fraser.

Frannie just melted into Fraser's arms.

Fraser's eyes fixed on Ray, though, as he pulled her close and laid his lips gently on hers. Fraser kissed her for long minutes, and Ray could see it was a damn good kiss--it made Ray's mouth water just to watch it--and Fraser closed his eyes once or twice, but every time he opened them he focused on Ray like he'd never once looked away. Weird.

Still, it seemed to be working. And wow, wasn't that a sight to see, Fraser's fair skin going all rosy, and his breathing start to shorten up, and his dark hair getting messier under Frannie's fingers.

Ray squirmed around to where he could catch a glimpse of Fraser's groin, and sure enough, Fraser was getting hard. Ray moved in to get a better look. Yeah, wow, Fraser was six inches high and still rising, and the head of his cock was pushing its way out of the soft fold of foreskin.

Ray'd been circumcised as a newborn like most American boys; he'd never seen this happen before. Fraser's foreskin was stretching, folding back, disappearing, and, yeah, there was the perfectly shaped head of his cock, purplish and tender-looking and starting to ooze clear precome. Ray salivated like whatsisname's dog, and his hand went out to touch that beautiful cock before he realized what he was doing.

He was so close could feel its heat on his fingertips when he glanced up and saw Fraser's blue gaze riveted on him.

He practically jumped. "What...Fraser...oh, uh, sorry."

Fraser released Frannie and pulled back from her, his attention totally on Ray. He looked kind of spellbound, which was pretty much how Ray felt. Fraser cleared his throat. "Go ahead," he said, his voice coming out in a hoarse whisper.

"Oh...you sure?"

"Yes. Of course."

Oh, yeah. Right. Stay with the program, Ray. Fraser was supposed to _fuck _Ray in a little while. So, yeah, it should be okay for Ray to touch Fraser's cock. In fact, Fraser might need a helping hand if he was going to stay hard long enough.

Not every guy could be as freaky as Ray, who'd been mostly hard for the better part of an hour by now. Judging by his reaction to Fraser's body, he wasn't about to lose his erection any time soon unless it was from coming his brains out. Now, _that..._that might happen kind of soon if Ray wasn't careful.

He wrapped his hand around Fraser's cock. It fit into his grip perfectly, and God, it felt as incredible as it looked, heavy and full and pulsing under the silky skin. Ray wanted to push his own cock into the same hand and jack them off together, only Fraser was supposed to fuck Ray, and that might be kind of difficult if Ray did everything he wanted to right now.

He tried to think straight, which--hah! straight!--that was not easy with Fraser suddenly letting loose a soft moan and ramming into his hand. Oh, yeah. Right. Somebody was supposed to fuck Frannie, too. It just wouldn't be right, would it, for Frannie to get this close to Fraser, but get stuck with Ray instead? Because Ray knew in his gut Frannie was never, ever going to get another chance with Fraser: this was it.

Ray's heart broke for her. The least he could do was make sure Fraser was the one who fucked her.

Thorwald had said Ray should "do his sister." He didn't specify exactly what Ray had to do. Ray could figure out something that would do the trick for Thorwald, but let Fraser be the one to actually put his cock in Frannie, couldn't he?

Yeah. Ray'd been married for over a decade. He knew what to do for a woman.

He eased up on Fraser's cock, giving it a parting squeeze and bending down to lay a kiss on the salty head before he moved away. He ignored Fraser's shocked expression. They were going to have a lot to discuss later. Ray's job now was to make sure there would be a "later."

"My turn, Frannie, okay?" he said gently.

She was looking over at Fraser with this half-confused, half-comprehending look on her face. Crap. They were probably going to have a lot to discuss with Frannie later, too.

She shook herself and looked up at Ray. "Yeah, um. Sure, Ray, what do you think we should..."

He smiled, hoping he looked way calmer than he felt. "Will you let me...touch you? Let me make you feel good, okay?"

"Oh. _Oh. _Okay, Ray. Uh, just let me...I should probably..." her hand fluttered to the buttons of her blouse and started plucking them open one by one.

Oh, yeah. Yeah. Ray'd wanted her out of that blouse since the makeup went on.

Frannie didn't seem bashful anymore, at least not about getting naked. She pulled the blouse off quickly and then unzipped her skirt. The zipper went all the way from waist to hem so that the skirt just opened out flat; she had it smoothed out under her even before Ray recovered from seeing her pert little breasts bare, finally. Jeez, he'd worked at the 2-7 how long? Months, and there practically wasn't one day he hadn't imagined Frannie with her barely-there blouse _off._

His imagination hadn't done her justice.

She had creamy olive skin and lovely, firm breasts with little brown nipples that had already hardened into points. Her slender figure was a perfect hourglass shape, and her thighs were smooth and strong. She was built a lot like Stella, in fact.

"Wow," he said. Oh, yeah, that was articulate, Ray. "You're, uh, you're beautiful, you know that?" His mouth was dry, probably because it was hanging open. He closed it and glanced over at Fraser, who was still looking at Ray, not Frannie. The guy had to have like superhuman willpower or something. "She's beautiful, isn't she, Fraser?"

"Oh, yes," Fraser breathed, still not looking at her. Yeah, Fraser had to be doing that chivalry thing, that all-women-are-our-sisters thing.

"Frayzh, you can look," Frannie said in a very small voice.

So Fraser did, and his eyes were gentle. He came closer, closer, until he could lean over her and kiss her forehead. Which, that was weird for a porno flick, but Ray didn't care what Thorwald made of it. The important thing was that Frannie sighed and closed her eyes, and Ray traded glances with Fraser, and he could _feel_ Fraser telling him it was okay, get on with the action.

So Ray leaned up, too, and kissed Frannie's cheek and her mouth, and she kissed him back, and then she opened her eyes and kissed him back some more. She didn't look at all shocked to see that it was Ray kissing her now, but then, Ray didn't smell like neat-something oil, but only probably gun oil or whatever, so it wasn't surprising Frannie knew who it was.

The surprising thing was that Frannie didn't seem to mind Ray taking over.

"You gonna take the shoes off?" he asked her when he came up for air. Not that she didn't look hot with the spike heels on and that little string of pearls and nothing else, because if that wasn't hotness, Ray didn't know what was.

"Oh, um. Can I leave them on?"

Ray shrugged. "Sure. Just don't poke me with them."

"Good," she breathed like it was a big relief. "Because I didn't paint my toenails this morning like I was going to, and I never wear open-toed shoes unless I have my toes painted, and they're filming this, you know..."

"Frannie, Frannie." He stopped her with a gentle finger over her lips. "It doesn't matter."

"Thanks, Ray." She swallowed kind of hard, and only then did it occur to Ray that maybe Frannie chattered about dumb stuff like that to avoid thinking about things that she didn't want to think about. Which, yeah, she had a few tough things in her life that Ray knew about that she was better off forgetting if she could. He felt a little guilty for dragging her back to where the bad guys were holding guns on them and making them do this.

"It's okay," he told her. "It's gonna be okay."

"Yeah, Ray. I know."

Damn, she was brave. His heart went out to her. "Will you let me, um...kiss you other places, too?"

"Other places?" she squeaked. "Oh...sure, Ray. Anything. Sure." She touched his cheek.

"Okay." So he kissed her neck and he kissed her breasts until she moaned and squirmed against him, and then he kissed his way down her belly.

"Oh, Ray, you're really going to...?" she squeaked.

Oh, yeah, he was. Ray's tongue could drive a girl crazy. "If it's okay with you," he breathed into her belly.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's okay," she whispered back as Ray brushed his hand real gently over the short dark hair between her legs.

He glanced once at Fraser, who had a strained expression on his face that Ray wasn't going to begin to try to figure out, and then rearranged his position on the bed, crouching between Frannie's legs. He heard movement from beyond the bed, but it only sounded like the usual camera adjustments and stuff, so he ignored it.

He slid his arms up under Frannie's slender thighs, all the way, till she sighed and settled her legs on his shoulders, totally open to him. Which, wow, when a girl did that, it turned Ray's crank big time, not only because of how hot it was to see her pussy right there in front of him, but also because it showed how much she trusted him.

He curved his arms around so he could reach her with both hands, and the movement put his mouth right _there,_ right up against her dark fragrant curls and the little mound of her sex. He slid his tongue out to touch her where her outer lips parted and noticed a peek of extra flesh, the dusky edges of her inner lips showing. Unlike Stella, whose pink sex was all hidden and you had to open her up to find it, Frannie was more obvious and out there.

Ray smoothed his hands over her, gently parting her softness, and instantly his fingertips were wet. He slipped his fingers up into her just a tiny bit, just enough to get more of the wetness so he could spread it over her sensitive lips. He smoothed it outward with both thumbs and then up a little with one thumb to where her lips came together, and right there, he could feel the little shaft of her clit and the hood over the most sensitive part. Frannie shivered and squirmed. He lowered his mouth to her and put his tongue out, teasing just between the edges of her inner lips and up, up--there--he licked up and over her clit with the pointed end of his tongue.

"Oh!" Frannie gasped, and she bucked upward, but Ray'd been expecting something like that and he moved with her. He looked up and caught her eye and sent her a wicked little smile. "Hit the spot, huh?"

"Oh! Oh, yeah. Yeah, Ray. Sure did," she breathed, her dark eyes wide.

Behind him, Ray heard Fraser suck in a breath and hold it, almost like he was the one who'd been licked.

Ray could feel Fraser moving up on the bed and easing down onto his side next to Ray, watching what Ray was doing, and when Ray glanced over he saw that Fraser had his hand around his dick and was jacking himself very slowly.

Fraser's eyes were wide and dark; more sweat was beading up on his lip, and his mouth was open a little, his tongue flicking out over his lips again and again. He sure didn't look like a guy reluctantly getting himself hard for the main event. Fraser actually looked like he was touching himself because he couldn't help it, because watching Ray lick Frannie was so hot that Fraser maybe didn't even realize what he was doing.

And that...God, what that did to Ray. His dick was beyond hard to...had to be something like granite now, he figured, what with his mouth on Frannie, and with Fraser next to him watching them and doing himself in the slowest, hottest manner Ray could have imagined.

Jeez. Ray had to hold very still for a moment to calm down. His dick wanted inFrannie so bad...but it was Fraser _she_ wanted. Fraser should be the one.

Maybe Ray going down on her would be enough for Thorwald. Ray had to get hold of himself--ha! Maybe literally--and resist the urge to climb on top of her and shove it in. He had to let Fraser do that...when Fraser was ready. So Ray held back and concentrated on making Frannie feel good, and when he couldn't hold off any longer, he humped the bed a little.

"Oh! Ray..." Frannie adjusted her leg a little higher in the crook of Ray's arm and curved her body around. She reached a hand down, but couldn't quite reach Ray's dick. "Jeez, Ray, sorry, you shouldn't have to--"

Next to them, Fraser shifted on the bed. "It's all right," he told Frannie in the gentlest tone Ray had ever heard him use. "Relax."

The bed dipped a little and then Fraser's big, warm hand touched Ray's hip. "Ray...let me...?"

_Let _him? Was Fraser kidding? Ray pushed up onto his knees again, giving Fraser room, and Fraser's hand closed around Ray's cock as quick as anything, tight and warm and intense.

Oh, God. _Fraser_...Fraser was touching Ray.Somehow that was way hotter than anything that had happened so far.

Ray shivered and his belly tightened up. His cock felt so huge and full in Fraser's hand. God, that was _Fraser's hand. _Fraser's square, stronghand _was wrapped around Ray's cock._ And Fraser did it on his own initiative.

Ray almost couldn't wrap his brain around the concept.

His cock was having no trouble with the concept at all. Fraser jacking Ray was _good_\--that was about all his cock understood. Good. More_._ More of Fraser's hand. Fraser's mouth would be really good, too. Any part of Fraser, in contact with any part of Ray? _Very _good.

Fraser touching Ray while Ray buried his tongue in Frannie and pushed his top lip up over her clit, making her gasp and writhe on the bed? Even better.

"Keep rolling, this is lovely," Thorwald's muffled voice was saying in the background. "Very good, Constable. Keep it up. So to speak." The son of a bitch snickered. Hardy ha ha ha. Ray could hear him directing the camera guy to move closer, move over there, get the hand-on-cock action on film, get a good shot of Ray's face, Frannie's pussy.

"Can you get them all in the frame?" Thorwald was saying, and the camera guy was giving some technical explanation that wouldn't have meant anything to Ray even if he could have followed it.

Ray tried to concentrate on Frannie, who was bucking and writhing pretty constantly under him now, but Fraser's hand kept tugging his attention southward. His balls tightened up and pushed themselves against Fraser's wrist, and Fraser murmured, "Oh..." and Ray felt Fraser's warm breath on his cock for just a second, and then a warm, wet touch that had to be the tip of Fraser's tongue flicking out to lick Ray just below his cockhead. And, oh God, that was it, that was _it--_Ray pushed his tongue up into Frannie and practically yelled into her as he came, hard and messy, all over Fraser's cheek and the side of his neck.

Under Ray's mouth, Frannie cried out, arched up on the bed, her muscles all tightening up, almost, almost, and then, then...nothing. Nada. She straightened out slowly, but none of her tension was gone. Ray, on the other hand, felt like his arms and legs were made of overcooked spaghetti.

Fraser let go of him, and Ray untangled his arms from Frannie's legs, gulping in lots of air to keep himself from dozing off right there.

Two fat tears squeezed from under the outer corners of Frannie's lids and ran in opposite directions, down into her hairline towards her ears.

Oh, no--he'd gotten so lost in the feeling of Fraser's hand and tongue on him that he'd screwed her up, not in the good way, at the wrongest possible moment. "God, I'm sorry, Frannie; it's my fault. It, um, was too--"

"Sh, Ray, it's all right, not your fault," she whispered, but she didn't open her eyes. "I'm good."

"You're good?" Yeah, right.

"Yeah."

"But you didn't--"

"I know, Ray, it's just...it's been a long time, and...it's kind of hard to relax here."

"'Course it is." He eased himself up over her to look at her face, careful to keep up on his knees so his cock didn't touch her. Because, Jeez, nobody had said a damned thing about protection. They didn't need Frannie getting pregnant out of this fiasco if they could avoid it. He wasn't really hard anymore, but he was still big and full and dripping a little at the tip. "Aw, don't cry, Frannie. We're good. I can keep this up a long time. Or do something else. Whatever you want."

She sniffled, but still didn't open her eyes. "Come on, you know girls sometimes cry just because it feels good. You know."

"I know they _say_ that."

She opened her eyes. "Ray, no, it was good. Really good. You're terrific. Thank you."

It was kind of wrong to be thanking him, Ray thought, but he didn't have the energy to argue the point. He also didn't have any idea what he was supposed to do next.

"Less chit-chat," an ugly voice said from somewhere beyond the bed. "More action, folks."

Oh, yeah. Thorwald. Goons. Many very large guns. Right. Ray swiveled around to check on Fraser.

Fraser was rubbing his wet cheek distractedly with one hand, and as Ray watched he put his hand under his nose, sniffed it, and then licked it like Ray had drenched him with ice cream instead of come. Wow.

Ray shook himself. He couldn't let himself think that way, think that it _meant_ anything. Everybody knew Fraser would lick _anything_ to satisfy his curiosity. Ray might wish it would satisfy something else for Fraser, but wishing didn't make it so.

"Come, come, children, and I do mean _come,"_ Thorwald piped up. "You're one for three so far, and while that was a truly inspired performance, it's time for some actual copulation."

"Cop-ulation. That's a good one, Mr. Thorwald," Greenie's voice said from somewhere in all that darkness beyond the bed.

"Quiet, Greene. We're creating Art here. Get on with it, Detective _et alia._ _Capisce?"_

Frannie shot Thorwald a dark look, maybe because he'd used Italian. Or maybe because his Italian sucked. She spat something long and complicated at him that started with _"Faccia" _and singsonged on from there. Ray knew it couldn't be good, whatever it was. He'd heard his dad curse in Polish. Different language, same idea.

_"Sta zitta,_ Frannie," he said, 'cause he'd heard Mamma Vecchio shush people in Italian so many times he had it memorized (and _go, Ray!_ way to keep his Vecchio cover intact even though he was stark naked and smeared with come). "We don't know how much Italian he understands."

Thorwald just laughed. "I don't understand the nuances of the dialect, but I get the general idea, and my dear, if anybody here resembles a cocksucking prostitute it's one of you three. I'm afraid I don't swing that way." He laughed all over his disgusting face.

Oh, that was rich. He made _Fraser _do stuff straight guys do _not _do, and yet he was so hyper-straight himself that he couldn't even take a little insult on the chin. Hardy ha ha ha. Ray was not fucking amused.

Thorwald finally stopped cackling and started rubbing his hands together. "Back to work. Places, everyone. It's time for Act One, Scene Two, in which at least two out of three pigs get poked."

Ray heard Greenie guffawing like a moron back behind the cameras somewhere.

"Your choice as to which two, lady and gentleman and--" he waved an indifferent hand, "whatever _you_ are, Detective."

Great. Just great. Could something as superficial as makeup and silky underwear make a scruffball like Ray look girly on film? He didn't think so, but Thorwald's snide comment got his back up just the same. So he'd noticed Ray was a little bit gay, huh? So what? Did that make Ray less of a man? It did not. Did the scumbag not notice how hard Ray got just from looking at Frannie? Did he not notice how Ray was hung like a fucking _moose?_

Ray's face must have looked like a moose about to stampede, because Frannie grabbed him by the ears and pulled him over to her. "Ignore him, Ray. He's nothing. If anybody here knows you're all man, it's me."

He couldn't help smiling at that. "Aw, jeez, Frannie."

"I know, too," Fraser said, real quietly, inching closer on the bed. He put his hand out like he was going to touch Ray, but when he got close enough, Fraser seemed to not be able to find an okay place on Ray's skin. Anywhere he touched him would seem really gay, wouldn't it?

Ray grabbed Fraser's hovering hand. "It's okay, Frase. You can touch me."

"Ray." Fraser's fingers closed around his, a tight, tight squeeze. "Let me be the one. I'll lie under you. You don't have to..."

"Zip," Ray said, turning his hand around on Fraser's and squeezing right back, even tighter. "We're not going there again. Use your famous Mountie logic, Fraser. You never took a guy up the ass before. We don't want the theme of this little flick changed to blood and guts. Stick with the romance, it's working for us."

"But, Ray--"

"There is no ‘but, Ray,' here, Fraser. There is only Ray's butt, which knows how to do this without getting hurt. You think I could cram my dick inside your virgin ass on Mr. Time Is Money's schedule without tearing something? You think I could live with knowing I hurt you like that?"

Fraser opened his mouth like he was going to argue some more, but then something changed in his eyes and he shut it again without a sound.

"Logic?" Ray said.

Fraser nodded, kind of glumly. "Logic," he said, conceding the point.

Ray gave him a tight smile. "Look, Fraser, don't worry about my manhood. I'm not listening to that creep, and you shouldn't, either. My manhood's okay."

"Yes, I...can see that," Fraser said, and he wasn't making a dopey dick joke like some guys might've done. He really meant it.

Ray's throat kind of closed up then. He wanted to kiss Fraser so bad at that moment that he almost broke a tooth from grinding his mouth shut.

After he got himself under control, he leaned over and planted one on Fraser's cheek, just for the hell of it.

The corners of Fraser's mouth turned up, and his eyes got shiny and dark like maybe he was going to spill a little. But he didn't, he just swallowed hard.

Ray eased down and looked him over. Fraser had a few dark bruises from Thorwald's goons, and a couple of scrapes on his wrists and neck from the ropes, but all in all, he looked okay. His dick was even still half-hard.

Ray figured they'd better get on with it. That sadist Thorwald hadn't offered them any lubricant or anything, so there was only one way to do this; plus, that also happened to be the only halfway sanitary way to do it, too.

So, Frannie first. He turned back to her, helped her get settled on the pillows. Fraser's uniform tunic was in there under her shoulders; Fraser just shook his head to say it wasn't important, and Ray left it there. He pushed himself around to Frannie's side and motioned for Fraser to kneel between her legs.

"You still wet?" he whispered, smoothing Frannie's hair with his hand.

"Sure," Frannie said distractedly, which, who wouldn't be distracted by _Fraser_ crawling between their legs preparing to fuck them?

"Okay, cowboy," he told Fraser. "I didn't show the lady a good enough time at the rodeo, if you catch my drift. You want to defend my honor, here?" He could practically see Fraser parsing that one out.

Fraser was a pretty quick study when he had to be. "Oh, well, yes. I'll, er, certainly do my best."

"Need a hand?" Ray said, stretching one out towards Fraser's cock.

Fraser cleared his throat like he was surprised. "Ah. I'd appreciate that."

Oh, yeah, Fraser was definitely on Ray's wavelength. Ray wrapped his hand around Fraser's half-hard cock and gave him some long, sweet pulls. God, that was nice. He was getting used to the feeling of Fraser in his hand. He wondered if he could talk Fraser into letting him do it again once in a while, after they got out of this.

Ray was kidding himself, but, hey, it was a nice thought. He pushed gently at the last little ring of foreskin as it pulled back, and rubbed his thumb real softly over Fraser's cockhead, feeling it perk up and release a lot of slick, clear precome. He spread it around with his fingers for a minute, and then stopped. Christ, he'd almost forgotten. No condoms. Precome usually had live sperm in it. If Frannie was anywhere near fertile right now, that lovely, clear stuff could be a disaster in the making.

Unless... He turned back to Frannie. "You on the Pill by any chance?"

She shook her head helplessly.

There was only one thing for it now; Fraser would just have to deal.

"Okay. Okay. Frase," Ray whispered. "There's no condoms, no birth control. You got to pull out in time; you think you can?"

Fraser nodded, which was no surprise. The guy was a rock when it came to self-control.

"And I have to, uh... Look, you got to forgive me for this, okay? Because there's no other way to be sure we got all the sperm cleaned up."

"I understand," Fraser said quietly, and he kind of squeaked on the last syllable, because Ray had sunk his mouth down over Fraser's cockhead by then.

"Oh, God," he heard Frannie say from someplace that sounded far away. "Oh, oh, God."

Ray figured she'd never seen a guy give another guy head before. First time for everything.

And, oh, yeah...Ray's first taste of Fraser's cock was just as sweet as he'd imagined. Sweeter. It was petal-soft on Ray's tongue, fragrant with musk, delicious. Ray wanted to taste it forever.

Fraser got real hard, real fast. No surprise. It wasn't only girls Ray could drive mad with his tongue, after all.

He licked Fraser long enough to make sure he'd sucked away every drop of precome anywhere on his cock, and then he swiped his tongue over Fraser's smooth balls for good measure. After that, he ran the tip of his tongue under the last little edge of Fraser's foreskin to be doubly sure.

Finally, reluctantly, he pulled off with an audible pop. Fraser's body jackknifed toward him like it didn't want to let him go. Ray smiled, left one more soft kiss right on the tip, watched it twitch. Yeah, Fraser's cock thought Ray's mouth was a Very Good Thing.

Ray just wished he could convince the rest of Fraser, especially the part between the ears. He sighed, and rolled over next to Frannie. "Go, Fraser."

"Come here, Frase," Frannie breathed, and, yeah, Fraser still kind of looked like a guy going to his doom, but he had another expression on his face, too, half-hiding behind the caribou-in-the-headlights look. It looked to Ray like surprise or maybe even revelation, and how great was that? _That _was because of Ray's blowjob, he'd bet his badge it was. Heh. Who da man? Ray leaned over and kissed Frannie's tits thoroughly for good measure.

And Frannie, she sighed and ohed and ahed and she opened her legs for Fraser like she'd been waiting a lifetime to do it. Which maybe she had, because Fraser was like that knight in shining armor they teach girls to expect but that girls hardly ever, ever find.

Fraser was one in a billion, that was for sure.

Good thing they didn't teach boys to expect somebody like him.

Fraser settled down over Frannie on his elbows and knees, then looked her in the eye for what seemed like a year. He finally found his voice. "Francesca, I...this wasn't supposed to ever..."

"Fraser..." she sighed. "Look, it's okay. I know I've given you a real hard time, trying to get you to...to go out with me when you've been really clear it's not what you want. Um. I don't know what's wrong with me, but, I guess it's like _Ray_, like my _brother_ told me once." She said it like that, so it was clear she meant the real Vecchio. She bit her lip. "Uh, that I'm not the kind of girl that guys like you marry."

Fraser closed his eyes, in pain. Ray wanted to hug him. And, God, he wanted to hug Frannie, the poor kid. He hung his head, feeling weirdly ashamed that the real Ray Vecchio had said something like that to her.

Because while it was true, it wasn't true for the reason Frannie probably thought. Frannie wanted normal stuff out of life: a family, a house, a husband who came home every night. She wasn't going to get that from a nutcase who'd chase a mad taxidermist over a thousand kilometers on a dogsled for illegally trapping a muskrat.

"So, look, I finally get that, I do," Frannie was telling Fraser. "And I kind of got that all along, except maybe I didn't want to. But I get it now, and it's all iconic or something, but right now we have to do this. So, I just want you to know...you _can_, that's all, and you don't have to worry that I'm going to, uh..." A tear tracked down her smooth cheek. Ray brushed it away gently with a fingertip. "...that I'll tell anyone, because I won't, not even Elaine, I promise."

Which, that was nice of her, Ray thought, but if Thorwald got his way, she wouldn't haveto tell anyone; it'd be on the fucking six o'clock news.

"I won't expect anything from you, either. It's just...let's save our lives and get out of here, all right? And I'm sorry for being so buffalo-headed that I involved myself in this in the first place, and made you and Ray have to worry about a civilian in a...in a bad situation. I promise I'll never do it again."

Fraser had opened his eyes and was nodding thoughtfully. "I understand, Francesca," he said. "It's very honorable of you and very, very brave. I'm sorry...I'm heartily sorry for the...violation..."

She put her fingers over his lips. "There's no violation, Benton. Don't even think that, 'cause I consent, I totally consent. Just um...think of it like a reflex, that's all it is. Like...like sneezing, or like scratching an itch...you scratch me, and I'll finally go away..." She was crying openly now, a sob away from _weeping, _and the wrongness of that wrenched something in Ray's chest. He leaned over and kissed her forehead and stroked her hair with gentle fingers.

"Francesca--" Fraser sounded pretty wounded, too. "You're not an itch. You're...you're Ray's _sister, _do you understand? And there are some things friends just can't...oh, dear, don't cry, please. I can't just _use_ you..." He choked up.

Ray grabbed Fraser's arm, hardly even aware he was doing it. He had to speak for Vecchio here, and he had to get it right, for all of them. "You're not using anyone, Fraser. You're loving.Get it?You're loving _me, _Ray _Vecchio_, enough to save my sister's life in the only way you can right now. And save mine. And by the way--yours."His voice sort of broke, but he locked his gaze on Fraser's, willing him to understand.

"I promised myself I would never betray your trust again, Ray." Which of course he meant Vecchio.

Ray tried not to hyperventrilate or whatever. Damn it, Fraser was about to blow everything because of his screwed-up sense of honor. What did fucking honor mean in the face of a loaded Uzi? Fraser wasn't thinking straight.

"You think I'm gonna be happy you didn't do my sister, Fraser, when they're carrying her out in a pine box?"

"Oh. Oh, I didn't think..."

"Yeah, obviously. C'mon, Frase. I know they smacked you around some. Try to hang onto your marbles, here, okay?"

"All right. Yes." Fraser cleared his throat. And looked down at Francesca, at the big puppy-dog eyes she was making at him, the tears all streaky on her face, and he _still_ hesitated.

Ray hoped he was psyching himself up, because the clock was ticking. From back behind the bright lights, he could hear Thorwald muttering something, and the camera guy was getting too damn close, with his clicking and whirring and not giving a fucking damn about the human beings on the bed. Ray turned just enough to aim a snarl at the guy, making him back off a few feet, then he hooked Fraser under one shoulder and whispered urgently in his ear, "Now you're hurting her feelings, Frase, can't you see that? Get real. She's a beautiful woman and she wantsyou like she's never wanted anything. Just _do _it."

Fraser looked up at him, blinking, like he was coming out of a trance. Ray grabbed Fraser's chin in his hand, tight, too tight, and looked him right in the eye at close range. "It's okay,Frase."

Fraser had a soft spot for the helpless, the downtrodden. Fraser had a soft spot for Frannie, whether he'd admit it or not. He might not want to fuck her if he had the choice, but right now he didn'thave the choice.

"Forgive me, Francesca." He adjusted his position and kneeled up, taking his cock in his hand. "Guide me...?"

Her dark eyes went wide_._ She put her hand down and closed it over his, her slender little fingers so tiny on Fraser's big hand. Ray held his breath.

She showed Fraser where to aim and then she leaned back a little, and he leaned forward. Ray watched, spellbound.

Fraser sank into her smoothly, with a long sigh, like he'd been holding his breath, too. Ray let his out as well and leaned back against the pillows, feeling drained.

"Oh," Frannie cried softly. "Oh...hang on, hang on, give me a minute." She shifted around a little, and breathed, and breathed, and then her face started to relax. "It's just...you feel so big, and I'm just, you know, _not._ Need a minute to get used to you."

"Mm," was all Fraser said, and he said it into her neck. Inarticulate Mountie: that was good, Ray thought, that meant it felt good, that Fraser was finally getting into it. And her.

Ray's cock twitched in sympathy, like it was seriously considering getting hard again. Frannie must be really small and tight, like Stella when she and Ray were seventeen and they did it for the first time. Ray had been big even then, always kind of a freak, and he'd been so scared of hurting her that his hands shook as he went in. He had no trouble staying hard, though, because of being seventeen and all, so he managed. Stella shook some, too, and Ray stroked her hair and leaned down and whispered in her ear that he loved her, he loved her, and they didn't have to do this now, really, he could wait. But Stella said "Come on, Ray, do it." So he did, he went in all the way, real slow, and she gasped but she took him, all of him, and after a minute or so she eased up around him and he could thrust, and from there it got a lot better.

This kind of reminded Ray of that.

Frannie gave Fraser the okay to move, and Fraser put his hand under Frannie's backside and held her to him and thrust. Her legs came up around him; God, she was so tiny, so skinny, and Fraser was so big and strong....

Ray felt himself leaking, and wow, he was just about hard again. It hadn't been quite half an hour, he figured, and his cock was ready for more. Ray'd always been kind of quick on the trigger, but that was a record, even for him.

His hand went to his cock and he started stroking, real gently, before he even realized he was doing it. He felt sweat beading on his forehead and his upper lip, and he absently wiped it with the back of his free hand. Fraser doing Frannie was incredibly hot to watch; Ray felt kind of dizzy.

He watched as Fraser went into her, pulled back, went into her again, started to thrust...

...and Ray had to grab his cock just under the head and hold on tight, or he'd shoot all over himself, and that would make the next bit harder to do, without the motivation of needingit the way he so needed Fraser to fuck him right now.

Fraser shifted his knees for a better angle, but he didn't break his rhythm at all. He was fucking her good, sliding in and out of her so perfect, and Ray had to squeeze his cock a second time and even look away.

When he looked away, all he saw was Thorwald making get-on-with-it motions with his hands, and the camera guy coming in with the handheld way too close for Ray's comfort.

Fraser seemed to pick up on the urgency; he stepped up his thrusts, and Frannie kind of moaned in a soft voice, but then she sighed and lay back on the red jacket. "I'm just, I'm sorry, Fraser, I can't..." she said. "I just...I don't, you know, reach completion from a guy being, um, inside me..."

"Oh," Fraser said, but he kept moving like he couldn't help it.

Some girls couldn't come just from being fucked, Ray translated in his head. Yeah. He knew that.

He leaned over her. "Let me, um...let me help with that."

"Yeah, Ray. That's...thanks. Yeah."

He leaned down and tongued her nipples, one by one, and slid his hand between her and Fraser, and he saw Fraser look down to see his belly rubbing over Ray's hand with every thrust. Fraser suddenly gasped and pulled out all the way and grabbed his cock hard like Ray had been doing to his own.

Frannie stared up at Fraser with huge dark eyes. She looked like she was two seconds from bawling again.

"He had to, Frannie. He was gonna..."

"Oh," she said, breathless. "Yeah. Sorry."

He hugged her, and she shivered in his arms.

Ray knew she was dealing with the fact of finally getting Fraser--at least getting him in bed--and it sure wasn't what she'd hoped. Her Fraser thing was ending, which Ma Vecchio had told Ray that Frannie'd "had eyes for Benton" since the evening Vecchio had brought Fraser to dinner the very first time, so it was over three years by now.

And only now was she finally twigging to what Ray'd figured out his first week on the Vecchio gig--that Fraser wasn't ever going to be hers. Jeez...poor kid. If he was Frannie, he'd cry a river.

"Ray, er, it's going to have to be now, Ray," he heard Fraser saying behind him, sounding just as guilty as he'd sounded about Frannie.

Ray gritted his teeth and spoke between them. "Don't you apologize to me, Fraser. Just don't. Just. Do what you gotta do. Now."

Frannie wasn't threatening to spill over anymore. She was looking up past Ray with huge brown eyes that seemed startled or even maybe shocked. Ray realized she could see Fraser's face. Fraser had moved behind Ray, and now he was kind of leaning on him, half-draped over Ray's back, rubbing up against him like he couldn't help himself. Frannie'd seen that and it must've looked to her like Fraser was into guys, Ray realized. It must've looked like Fraser just had to hump against Ray or he'd scream, and he was thrusting kind of absently, like his body was maybe doing it without his knowledge.

He sure as hell wasn't resisting it the way he'd resisted entering Frannie.

Oh, jeez, Frannie just didn't understand.Ray was safe for Fraser in a way that Frannie wasn't, Ray was Fraser's _partner. _Fraser was just rubbing up against him helplessly, like he'd maybe rub up against the bed or the pillow, or another object, wasn't he? But Frannie, she was a woman, she represented an emotional tangle.

Ray would bet his last dollar that Fraser'd promised himself he wasn't getting into a tangle like that. With her being Vecchio's sister and all, and Fraser having been Vecchio's best friend. You didn't do your best friend's sister; even Fraser knew that. So him and Frannie? It was a thing that was never, ever, supposed to happen.

Frannie had never quite gotten on board with that, but Fraser'd been there since the beginning, and that meant Fraser was probably dying inside fifteen different ways because he'd fucked her.

Fraser had long since stopped blushing, but Ray figured it was either because his cheeks were just exhausted from it, or because his dick had all the extra blood. Yeah, probably the second choice, because Fraser was so hard and so hot against Ray's ass.

Ray lowered his mouth again to Frannie. Her eyelids fluttered closed and she arched her neck and leaned back on Fraser's jacket with a sigh.

Before Ray could relax into working on Frannie, Fraser slid around Ray and reached toward Frannie's pussy with two fingers, and Ray felt a shiver go up his back as he realized what Fraser was doing. Fraser needed more of Frannie's slick to prepare Ray. To prepare to fuck Ray.

God.

Ray pulled back enough to give him room.

"Francesca, would you mind if I..." It figured Fraser would be all Canadianly polite, even in bed.

Frannie opened her eyes, looking kind of startled, then she said, "Oh. Oh, yeah, Fraser. Whatever you need to do."

Then Fraser's hand came up under Ray's chin, brushing it, as two of his big fingers slipped gently inside Frannie. She let out a soft moan and she kind of squirmed on Fraser's hand, and Ray realized she was finally close to really coming this time.

"Keep doing that, Fraser," he breathed, and lowered his lips to surround her clit again, tonguing around it and then sucking gently right on the tiny shaft, playing with the hood and snaking his tongue down to where Fraser's fingers were moving in her. He licked a swipe up Fraser's long middle finger right into Frannie and then up over her clit, and Fraser moved his hand faster in her, finger-fucking her with intent now.

Frannie gasped, then cried out suddenly, and under Ray's gentling hand her belly went tight. Her sweetness burst on his tongue and glistened on Fraser's skin, and Ray could feel her spasm under his hand. He stopped moving but kept his tongue on her until she nudged him away with an apologetic little sound, and Ray lifted his head and watched Fraser slowing his fingers and slipping them out of her, dripping with her fluids...enough, it would be enough...

Fraser immediately got behind Ray again. Ray felt the blunt, slick press of Fraser's wet fingers against his asshole for a second, and then they slid into him almost as easily as they'd slid into Frannie, and it was Ray's turn to cry out.

Fraser's hand stilled immediately. "Have I hurt you?" He sounded horrified.

"No--no! Just...that was quick."

"I'll go more slowly."

"Okay. Okay."

Fraser knew enough not to pull his fingers out abruptly. He held them still inside Ray for about a minute, then began pushing them farther into him, a millimeter at a time. Ray felt his muscles start to relax and loosen up around Fraser's fingers.

He remembered to breathe about then, and under him Frannie made a little sound like a sigh. He looked at her. Her eyes were still so wide and dark, but there was a little bit of relief showing in them now. Well, an orgasm would do that for you, Ray thought. But she moved under him, kind of wiggled, and made that little moan again, and Ray realized that even though she'd come, Fraser had pulled his fingers out sooner than she wanted. Stella was like that, too, Ray remembered; she wanted to be fucked more after coming than she did before.

But Fraser was going to fuck Ray instead. Fraser's fingers slipped out gently, and Ray felt the much thicker head of Fraser's cock bump against his asshole. It started to push in, really, really slowly, stretching him.

He huffed out some quick little breaths, which helped, and tried to make his brain work out a solution for Frannie. Think, brain. He couldn't put his fingers in her at this point; he had all he could do to brace himself over her and not collapse under the weight as Fraser began to press into him in earnest, stretching him wide.

He couldn't lick her; she was still too sensitive. His cock wasn't really hard any more; he was rapidly losing his erection, finally, like the pressure in his ass was too much. Which it was, it was intense.

He shrugged an apology at her, but she shook it off, and her face got a calculating look. She had a plan; Ray could see the wheels turning. Frannie was always kind of transparent that way.

She reached for him and pulled him forward, slowly so Fraser could follow, and to his surprise she kissed him, sweetly and not at all sister-like. Huh. He kissed her back for a minute, then she pushed at him, making him lift his body off her an inch or two. Ray felt her slender fingers wrap around his cock. Which was, oh, that was good, that was...oh, God, he was getting hard again, and she was touching him so good. Wow...if Ray had known how well she could do that, he'd have had a tougher time pretending to be her brother than he already did.

She jacked him for a bit, and Ray felt Fraser sort of drape himself over his back then, all warm and solid, and Fraser was _in,_ he was all the way in, and he went still, letting Ray adjust.

But Frannie's clever little hand didn't let Ray rest; he got hard again quickly, real hard, and he leaned his head down to her, careful not to dislodge Fraser. "Frannie, you want me to, uh...do you want...?"

She swallowed hard and looked at him real uncertainly, and he got it: she did want him to, but she didn't want to ask. She cleared her throat softly. "Maybe, um, maybe we should, because we don't want...you know...anyone to get the idea we're not cooperating..."

"Yeah," he said. "But...you sure it's okay? I--I mean, I know you wanted Fraser, but you've never wanted me, and I get that, I mean, yeah, seeing as I'm your brother and all, but even if I wasn't, hey, I know I'm no prize..."

"Sh!" She touched his mouth, stopping him from saying too much, even though she was probably stopping him too late. "It's okay, Ray. I want you to."

He kissed her jaw next to her ear, kissed it all the way down to her mouth. Kissed that, too, and tilted his hips just right, and then he was in her, inside the warm, wet clasp of her, and he couldn't help a little moan of pleasure as he felt her take him in all the way. When he got in as far as he could go, she winced a little; he could feel he was hitting something at the deepest point. Cervix, yeah, he remembered Stella complaining about him banging into that, whatever it was.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Frannie," he managed to say, and he pulled back a little. He never wanted to hurt her.

But she shushed him again and set her hands on his hips, holding him so he couldn't push the entire way in, and he could see the relief in her face.

He thrust a little; he couldn't help it. Fraser, still covering him, held really still, and Ray found he was fucking himself on Fraser's cock at the same time as he was fucking Frannie--Fraser on the out-strokes, Frannie on the in-ones.

He was breathing real hard, too, but he managed to whisper over his shoulder to Fraser to let him pull out when he needed to, because it was going to be a close thing.

"Of course, Ray." Fraser's voice sounded strained.

"You don't have to, though," Ray whispered over his shoulder. "You can stay in me. Uh, if you want." Forever'd be good. Yeah. Dot that, file it, put it in the box marked "Things Ray's never gonna dare say to Fraser."

Ray tried to make it good for Frannie, even though it was really not easy with Fraser buried in him to the balls, wrapping his arms around Ray's waist and holding on so tight that Ray felt even more breathless.

Frannie made it easier for him, though: she lay back and bent her knees up at Ray's waist, and that let him go into her deeper. She'd adjusted, she was good with that now. He thrust, and Fraser just stayed in Ray and hung on for the ride. The hotness of that could've made Ray's brain explode if he gave it any thought, but lucky for him, his brain wasn't really firing on all cylinders.

After a few minutes, Frannie shuddered and clenched her legs tight around him, and then she was coming again, spasming around his cock, gasping softly, "Oh...oh, Ray, yes...." She leaned back, arching her neck like she couldn't help it, couldn't help any of it, not the way her eyes closed or the way she panted or the sounds she was making, or even saying Ray's name. _Ray's _name,not Fraser's, which that was fucking amazing and made Ray feel like his heart was swelling up, too, along with his dick.

Ray suddenly knew he was about to go over the edge himself. He stopped thrusting and held really still, fighting down the urge, trying to hang in there. And Fraser, taking the wrong cue, began to move in him.

Ray didn't know how he managed to hang on. "Wait! Frase! Let me, I got to...." He had to pull out _now_ or risk coming inside Frannie, which if they lived through this that could be a very bad thing, and anyway Thorwald was yelling from behind the cameras that he wanted the money shot out in the open where he could film it, the son of a bitch. That thought was enough to cool Ray down a little, and in the meantime, Fraser got a clue and settled his hands on Ray's hips, warm and damp and rock-steady, and helped him pull out, gently.

Ray got kind of distracted then, because Fraser wrapped one of his hands around Ray's cock and started stroking him at the same time as he started thrusting again, his strokes and thrusts perfectly in sync.

Just like that, Ray was on the brink of losing it all over again. Fraser was inside him, all pushy and aggressive and male and so fucking hot,and Ray's eyes rolled back in his head, he was so gone. He was saying things which he didn't even know what they were, stuff like, _Do it, Fraser, do me, fuck me. God, so good...._

Fraser was _loving_ Ray. That was what it felt like. So that's what Ray would tell himself it was, at least until they got out of this hellhole.

After that, Ray would work on trying to forget, because he refused to let these scumbags take the one thing away from him that he wouldn't be able to stand losing--Fraser's friendship. Ray could lose his job, his police career, he would goddamn well give up _Chicago_ if he had to, but he was not going to lose Fraser without putting up the fight of his life.

The number one key to that was not giving Fraser anything to feel guilty over.

So he tilted his ass just right and pushed back into Fraser's thrusts, opening to him, taking him, taking it all. Fraser was fucking him like there was no tomorrow, and since there really might not be, there was no point in Ray trying to hold anything back, anything at all, not his panting or moaning or yelling, all way louder than Frannie had done.

Fraser stroked his cock hard, fast, always perfectly in rhythm with his powerful thrusts, like it was a dance, like they were dance partners whirling around the floor together, lost in each other, the whole world around them just disappearing. There was nothing but Fraser and Ray and Fraser's cock in Ray like it owned him--which it maybe did, but Ray wasn't complaining at the moment. He felt the pressure build behind his cock again, felt the weight of pleasure pushing him; he was going to go over the edge soon, all the way, and nothing was going to stop him. Fraser's hand and Fraser's cock gave him no choice.

From far away, Ray heard Thorwald urging the guy with the handheld camera to "get a close-up of the money shot," and how fucking weird was that, knowing _Ray_ was the money shot, knowing that sick bastard and his henchmen were watching, and Frannie, too, she was watching--not like she could help it, though, since she was still half under Ray, catching her breath from her part in it.

Ray would probably even care when all of this was over, but right now all those other people were completely unimportant, because Ray had Fraser's arms around him, Ray was feeling his ass clench around Fraser, around the hugeness of Fraser in him, which, if he lived, Ray was going to get to remember this forever. Fraser was thrusting into him like gangbusters, so hot and so hard, driving Ray forward into his fist, and Ray was so goddamn hard he was going to burst.

And then Ray felt Fraser's lips touch the back of his neck. Fraser made this sound like a little sigh, and Ray heard him whisper, "My God, Ray," and his cock went in Ray just right, brushing over that perfect place inside--Jesus God, to have _Fraser_ inside him...Ray couldn't hold anything back any more; he was totally, completely gone, doneski. Pleasure spiked through him. He came like a Juggernaut, whatever the hell that was, all over Fraser's hand and the black sheet, narrowly missing Frannie and the edge of her leather skirt.

"Oh...oh, God," he heard her say in a shaky voice as she squirmed out from under him, tugging the skirt free.

Ray heard Thorwald nattering about something, and he heard the camera guy, and he even heard Frannie say something, but he didn't have a clue what. They were just sounds, they weren't important, because Fraser was sighing and kissing Ray's neck, and still ramming his cock into Ray, and Ray was limp with pleasure, spent. Three more thrusts and Fraser went still, flooding Ray's ass with hot come.

Somehow Fraser managed to pull out before he was completely finished, and the rest spurted onto Ray's ass. The buzz of the camera was in Ray's ears, so that creep probably caught it all on film, too. Damn.

He lay back and heaved a huge sigh, wiping his sweaty forehead with his arm and catching his breath.

Fraser followed him down, slumping half on top of him for a second, then seemed to think he must be crushing Ray--which he wasn't; Ray was a strong guy--and he rolled off him, on the side away from Frannie. She clucked and fussed like women do when something's messy, and he heard her fumbling with her skirt, fiddling with the zipper or something.

Ray couldn't make head or tail of what she was trying to do; he was still panting and sweating, with his eyes half-closed, delirious with coming his brains out a second time in an hour, and he could feel Fraser next to him in pretty much the same condition.

Somewhere back behind the lights, someone had the fucking nerveto applaud. Thorwald and Greene both, it sounded like, Thorwald cackling and Greene doing his comic-villain laugh, and they were saying stupid things to each other that Ray only half-caught, stuff like "Fucking cops! How'd you know they'd be hot stuff, Boss?" and "They're naturals. I should have thought of this before the trial."

A couple more pairs of hands joined the applause, so obviously the goons were getting in on it, too. Fucking idiots. They were supposed to be holding guns on them and instead they were lollygagging around critiquing the "performance." If Ray ever caught a couple of uniforms losing focus like that on a crime scene, he'd haul them in and report them.

Hey. Wait a second. Ray's sex-fogged brain finally caught up to speed. If the goons were standing around with their tongues hanging out, there'd never be a better chance to make a break for it.

Then again, Ray's legs were like rubber at the moment, and the goons had Uzis. Whatever the odds were, they still wouldn't be good.

He closed his hand around Fraser's wrist as surreptitiously as he could manage. "Frase, any of them still holding guns on us?"

"Possibly," Fraser whispered back. "I can't see all the way to the wall; the lights are too bright. Ray, you're not thinking we should...no."

"If we could make it to the door--"

Fraser shook his head, once, quick. "Too dangerous. Ray, he'll let us go."

"You sure of that?"

"He wants us alive. You can't publicly discredit a dead man."

Ray scrubbed a hand over his eyes. "Damn, I want to _do _something. I can't just wait around for him to decide whether he's going to kill us or not."

"I understand, Ray," Fraser said in a kind of choked voice. He turned his arm a little so that his hand slid into Ray's and he squeezed firmly. "Ray..."

"Yeah?"

"If I'm wrong, and he...I just wanted you to know I...that I..."

Fraser's eyes were so blue. Weird for Ray to notice that right then, wasn't it? So goddamned blue.

"Yeah," Ray said. He swallowed hard. "Me too, Frase."

"Guys!" Frannie hissed from Ray's left, still sounding far away. Ray pulled himself out of that deep, deep blue gaze and glanced over.

Huh. Apparently Frannie was way ahead of him. She'd somehow managed to get back into her skirt, she still had her stiletto heels on, and her pearls--Christ on a Harley, she looked like Miss February from the calendar down at Zajac's Garage--and now, weirdly enough, she was lying back with her knees bent up like she maybe wanted another go-round...but she was making eyes at the camera guy, not Fraser or Ray.

Weird. Obviously she had something up her sleeve--so to speak.

Ray tried to shift around so he could help her somehow, but before he'd done more than let go Fraser's hand, he saw the camera goon move in towards Frannie like he was going to put his paws on her.

That yanked Ray's chain something fierce. He drew back his fist, all ready to put the guy's lights out then and there, but Frannie beat him to it. She growled like Dief and lashed out with her spiked heels--one-two! right in his face--and the camera guy screamed and fell backward, crashing into a light pole, and the camera went flying.

All hell broke loose in a chain reaction: first a crash as one of the big Klieg lights went over, and another crash as it hit something, and a pop-pop-pop-pop, a whole bunch of things popping and crackling and zapping, and a bang and another crash, and a short burst of gunfire--not in the direction of the bed, thank God. Also, there was a fucking hell of a lot of yelling.

Everything was bright for a second, bright like a lightning strike, and then, wham! all the lights went out and it was pitch black and Ray couldn't see a thing.

Next to him, Frannie screamed.

A second later, Ray realized he could see one thing, a too-bright spot over against the far wall, by Thorwald's scary-looking arsenal. The light flickered ominously, and thick darkness that had to be smoke started pouring off it toward them. Over by where Thorwald used to be, somebody coughed.

Ray would've scrambled up off the bed right then, but Fraser's hand clamped around his forearm so hard that Ray felt his wrist bones grind together. "No, Ray! Get down! It's going to blow," he thought he heard Fraser say. He didn't have the faintest idea what Fraser was talking about, but Fraser said get down, so Ray flattened himself and didn't move, because that was partners, and Ray trusted Fraser.

There were two seconds of silence and then a kind of roar, and yeah, that was fire, no way any of them could mistake that, and there was a fuckload of smoke. Fraser didn't let Ray up. Instead, he pulled him down, dragged him right off the bed onto the floor, and when Ray tumbled down there with him he found Frannie down there, too, her arm gripped in Fraser's other hand.

"Stay down, below the smoke," Fraser said, snaking an arm back up over the bed to grab something else. It was cloth, Fraser's red tunic, and Fraser pulled it right down onto Frannie.

He reached back up and snagged his pants, suspenders and all, and dumped them on top of Ray's head.

"Keep the clothing over your heads," Fraser shouted over the commotion. "We'll have to crawl out of here, but fast, before those munitions blow." He'd somehow found his Stetson and stuck it on his head--which, that was good. The Hat was like Superman's cape. Ray felt better knowing it was there, even though that made absolutely no sense.

Weirdly, there wasn't any more gunfire, but then Ray heard running feet and he realized that the half of the room that he couldn't really see before was totally black now--nobody there, or nobody that was conscious, anyway.

Ray's eyes stung and teared up, and even if he hadn't been without his glasses, he still couldn't have seen a damn thing.

On his hands and knees, Fraser tugged him forward, towards where the door should be. "Stay down and follow me."

Next to Ray, Frannie whimpered, and Ray grabbed her hand and squeezed it for a second. "We're good, Frannie," he forced out of cramped lungs. Everything smelled like burning rubber, not the easiest thing to try to breathe. "C'mon, c'mon. Follow Fraser. We gotta get out of here quick."

So they scrambled after him, and it was all Ray could do to keep the Stetson in sight as they made it out the big metal door and into the hallway. Fraser slammed the door behind them and hauled them both to their feet and pulled them at a run towards a door Ray hadn't noticed before--another fire door, this one exterior. It was stuck or something, but Fraser set his shoulder against it, and Ray gave it a kick like he wanted to give Thorwald, and it groaned like a sonofabitch and cracked open just enough to let them out.

They spilled out into the alley, coughing, wiping their streaming eyes, and Fraser heaved the fire door closed and pulled them farther away from the building.

Ray risked a glance over his shoulder. "C'mon, c'mon," he told Frannie and Fraser, urging them down the alley. "They got a hell of a lot of nasty ordnance in there. I got a bad feeling the whole building could go up."

Fraser glanced back also, but he let Ray push him down the alley just the same. "You know, Ray," he said in almost his normal voice, "it's very, very rare that a building ever actually explodes."

So of course that was when they got knocked flat by a sonic boom that sounded like the end of everything. It was so fucking loud that it shook the other buildings, must've shaken the entire city block.

Ray hugged the ground and felt for Frannie's hand. There--she slipped her tiny hand into his, trembling so hard he could barely hold on.

"Ray! Francesca!" Fraser said urgently.

"We're good, we're good," Ray whispered back, turning his head just enough to check that Frannie really was okay, and scraping his chin on gravel in the process. It was still light enough outside, seeing as it was summer, maybe only seven o'clock, Ray thought, but a thick blanket of smoke was already making it hard to see all the way down the alley.

He could hear, though. There was a muffled curse from up ahead, echoing like it was coming from the very end of the alleyway. It sounded like there was something big and metal up there that made the echo. He thought the voice sounded a lot like Greenie's; he also thought he heard groans. He didn't hear any gunfire. So either the perps weren't stupid enough to fire blindly, or they didn't have the guns with them at all.

Near him, Fraser got to his feet, stark naked but wearing his damn hat, and peered down the alley like he could actually see down there, which Ray had no idea how anybody could do that unless they really had X-ray vision.

"Hm," Fraser said, one of his most annoying "Hms," because there wasn't any context for it. He could've meant anything on God's black-and-blue Earth.

At the moment, Ray didn't care. He lay on the pavement holding Frannie's hand, coughing, and waited for Fraser to translate.

Fraser came closer and knelt next to them, putting his hand to Ray's face for a second and then to Frannie's. He seemed satisfied they were good like Ray said, then he got hold of his uniform tunic, which was still half on top of Frannie, and unwound something from it--oh, yeah, a string that used to be white--his lanyard.

Then he got right up and started walking fast toward the end of the alley. Where the perps still were, Ray guessed. Ray leaned over to whisper in Frannie's ear. "Stay right here, Frannie. Stay down, keep your head down, you hear?"

"Sure thing, bro," she said, kind of muffled, from under the tunic.

Wow. Ray thought she really was going to do what he said for once.

Too bad he didn't have time to enjoy it.

He scrambled up and followed Fraser. He didn't have a badge, he didn't have a gun, he didn't even have any goddamned clothes on--if you didn't count Fraser's pumpkin pants, which were still wound around Ray's neck--but he was damn well going to arrest those sons of bitches, no matter what.

He caught up with Fraser before they reached the perps, and Fraser looked him in the eye, and their jazz was back, right in harmony.

Maybe it had been there all along.

They could hear the faint scrabbling that told them where the scumbags were: behind a dumpster. Yeah, the big, metal, echoing thing was a dumpster, of course. Fraser was like a dumpster magnet; sometimes Ray thought Fraser was determined to drag him through, over, or around every dumpster in the city of Chicago.

Ray unwound the pumpkin pants from around his neck and dropped them where he stood. He gave Fraser the high sign, the thumb to the side of the nose, and Fraser did it back and nodded, pointing: he'd take the guy on the right; the guy on the left was Ray's.

Good. They sprang towards the perps like they were connected, two parts of a whole, the right and the left arms of the law. Ray's target turned out to be Thorwald. He took him down with a head butt from behind. It didn't even hurt much. Either Thorwald had a soft skull, or Ray was high on endor-whatsits, endorphins, and he'd feel it later. Didn't matter, it was worth it.

When he turned back to see how Fraser was doing, he found Fraser had nabbed Greenie, which was fine by Ray. Fraser looked more like a lumberjack than Ray did, anyway, just right for felling a tree, and even though he was small compared to Greenie, Fraser had a right cross like a sledgehammer.

Greenie slumped on the ground, half out of it, while Fraser shook out his hand, but then Greenie seemed to rally and started to sit up. Ray growled a warning to stay put, but the scumbag glared at Ray and got his legs under him, trying to heave his bulk up to standing. So Ray hauled off and kicked him, careful to do it heel first, right between the eyes. The guy's eyes crossed and he went out like a light.

"Oh!" Fraser said.

Ray looked up. Fraser was staring wide-eyed at Ray. He was still nursing his right hand. Even with his iron fists, clocking a guy the size of Greenie had to have hurt like hell.

Fraser knelt and checked Greenie. "Unconscious, but he appears otherwise all right. Of course, I'm not a doctor, but I imagine emergency services will arrive soon, and then..." He trailed off and looked back up at Ray, still wearing that shell-shocked expression.

"He was gonna get up, Frase," Ray said. "And I'm kinda naked here: no gun, no cuffs, nothing. We got no other way to restrain him."

"Oh. Yes, I know, Ray. I realize you didn't have a choice, it's just..." The corners of Fraser's mouth twitched up, a little smile. "That's the first time I've ever seen you actually kick someone in the head."

Ray grinned, too. "Didn't even have my boots. Pretty good, huh?"

"Quite effective." Fraser got to his feet, smiling openly now. "If I were a criminal, Ray, I would not be eager to meet you in a dark alley, boots or no boots."

"You got that right," Ray said, and he was not thinking about being in a dark alley with Fraser, with a naked Fraser wearing a Stetson. After about a minute of not thinking about it, Ray noticed Fraser was still just standing there, looking at him with those so-blue eyes.

"Um, yeah," Ray said, wondering whether everything he was not thinking about was actually written all over his face or not. He was damned glad he was totally fucked out, because he didn't have any way to hide the wood he would otherwise be sporting from all that not-thinking. "We'd better, uh--" He gestured uncertainly toward the prisoners.

"Right," Fraser said quickly, which suddenly made Ray wonder what Fraser was not thinking about.

But that was not a good place to go, not now, maybe not ever, so Ray made himself look away. He checked Thorwald: out cold, but breathing good, with a good strong pulse, so he shoved him over back to back with Greenie. Fraser did some complicated thing with the lanyard, tying all four wrists together with a cool knot that he said would tighten more if they struggled.

"You're under arrest, scumbags," Ray said while they worked. "For kidnapping and assault and a whole bunch of other stuff, including murdering a snitch. You have the right to remain silent and you got some other rights, and I'm going to tell you all over again when you wake up. Fraser, don't let me forget to Mirandize these assholes, okay? They are _not_ getting away with this."

"I won't forget, Ray."

Ray blew out a breath. "Any idea where the henchmen got to? Think any of them are still alive?"

"I'm fairly certain they all got out before we did," Fraser said. "I wasn't about to risk your life and Francesca's just to double-check."

Well, that was good. Maybe Fraser had learned something from Ray after all.

They looked over at the building.

"What the fuck did they have in there besides enough guns to take over Luxembourg?"

"TNT," Fraser said. "Gunpowder. I didn't get a good enough look at the arsenal to know."

"It can't all have gone up." Ray pointed to where black smoke was actively pouring from the windows. "That's still burning pretty hot; it's gotta be feeding on something. Think the rest of the building's gonna blow?"

"Well. Since it's highly unusual for a building to actually explode, the likelihood of its happening a second time in one--"

Yep, that was the building's cue. The explosion knocked them flat all over again. Ray was losing count of how many times he'd hit the dirt. Smoke whooshed out over the alley, but it mostly stayed up over their heads, and they heaved themselves up on their feet and ran for Frannie, pulling her and Fraser's jacket and each other to huddle behind the dumpster until the debris that was raining down stopped being hot. Somehow they all made it through without getting scorched, though the same couldn't be said of Fraser's uniform.

The building was still burning pretty good. And whoa, yeah, when the newspapers described flames _leaping_ into the sky? Ray now understood what that meant. He could feel the heat on his skin from across the parking lot and down the alley.

They got to their feet in time to watch another fireball go up, this time from the street side of the building where Ray and Frannie had entered. The bar office was just a black pit, and Ray could hear more little explosions, glass shattering. Probably the bottles of booze behind the bar going off one by one like little Molotov cocktails.

  
So that meant Ray's clothes and guns, along with everything else in the bar and office, were gone, incinerated. Fraser shook out his uniform pants and got back into them, but he left the tunic off because it was sooty and wrinkled, and a Mountie _does not wear The Uniform in that condition, Ray._ He set his hat back on his head and gave it a smart turn. Even without the tunic and boots, with just his suspenders pulled up over his bare chest, he looked dignified and Mountie-like, Ray thought.

Not to mention incredibly hot.__

Frannie still had that bitchin' skirt and her high heels and, weirdly enough, her handbag. Her blouse was gone, though, and it went without saying that she didn't have a bra. She didn't seem concerned about it at the moment--she wasn't trying to cover up or anything--which that made sense because, 1) the three of them didn't really have anything to hide from one another any more, and B) they'd just narrowly escaped being incinerated themselves, and that kind of put things in perspective.

Ray was all over the perspective angle, because he was still stark naked and painted like a cheap whore. Covered in come, too, but he figured the layer of ash and stuff on him pretty much hid that. He scrubbed at his cheek with a sooty hand. Maybe if he got enough dirt on his face, nobody would notice the eyeliner.

Frannie glanced at him and started scrabbling in her purse, coming up with, of all things, a tissue. "Here, Ray. Let me see if I can get that stuff off you."

Ray actually held still under her hands this time. Yeah, perspective counted for a lot.

Frannie finally declared him makeup-free and crumpled the tissue back into her handbag. "Oh, hey..." she said. "Look what else made it through." She held up the infamous thong, and sighed. "I used to love this thing. Now I don't want to ever look at it again."

"Well, if you want underwear on, you better put it on quick before those get here," Ray said, pointing off in the direction of the police and fire sirens. They sounded like they were only a few blocks away.

She made a face. "After it's been all over your...you know?"

Ray snorted. "Yeah, and my ‘you know' has been all over you. What of it?"

"Oh. Right."

Fraser cleared his throat. "The, er, undergarment is evidence." His eyes were distant, like his thoughts were a thousand miles away.

  
"Fraser. The _tape_ Thorwald made is evidence. That doesn't mean it's ever going to make it into court." Ray couldn't help sounding a little peevish.

Frannie shrugged and stepped into the thong, pulling it up and adjusting it without even lifting her skirt. Ray'd been married for over ten years, and he still didn't know how women managed to do that sleight-of-hand, quick-change thing they did.

Frannie couldn't make a blouse appear out of thin air, though. Ray heard the police and fire sirens getting closer. The squad cars would be full of guys who'd get a kick out of seeing Frannie half-naked. Even though the guys would focus on their jobs now, they'd remember later. More important, Frannie would remember, and she had to work with those guys; it wasn't right.

Ray didn't have a stitch on to offer her. "Fraser--Frase!" Ray snapped his fingers in front of Fraser's face. "Give me your jacket."

"What? Oh--yes, Ray, of course. You should cover yourself." He handed it over.

Ray frowned. "Jeez, Fraser, a little action and your Mountie chivalry, or whatever they call that, just disappears?" He settled the jacket over Frannie's shoulders and helped her fasten the buttons over her breasts. "Here, cover up. Bunch of cops coming--know what I mean?"

"Yeah. Thanks, bro." She pushed her arms into the sleeves and started rolling them up. She looked so tiny inside all that red Serge stuff. Tiny, but certainly not helpless. Ray felt a surge of pride, like he might have if he was really her brother.

Frannie looked up at him. "Hey, what about you?" she said.

"Me? Don't worry about me. It's still warm out, and I ain't got nothing those guys ain't already seen in the locker room a million times."

"Yeah, but what if reporters come? That was a pretty big fireball."

Ray shrugged. "Cops'll get here first. You know cops, Frannie. Every cop's got a blanket in his trunk."

The fire department howled in and started taking care of the blaze. Nobody gave naked Ray a second glance, except the battalion chief, who gave him the once-over for scorch marks, of which there were none, and then asked him if there was anybody left in the building.

"Fraser thinks all the perps got out before the whole thing went up," Ray said. "But trust me, if they didn't? Be lucky if there's enough of them left to ID." Under his breath, he added, "And you do not want to risk a single hair on the head of one of Chicago's Bravest for that scum."

"Ray," Fraser said, but it was only a token protest, because he had to know Ray was right.

Huey and Dewey beat the squad cars, which had to be some kind of record. Apparently the whole 2-7 had been on alert since Ray and Frannie went missing. Ray knew he was going to catch hell from Welsh, but at the moment he didn't care.

Perspective.

"You got a blanket?" Ray finally asked Huey after they'd checked on Thorwald and Greenie and found them awake, mostly well, still bound, and really pissed off.

"Yeah, sure," Huey said. "But I got some clean sweats in my gym bag. They'll fit you okay. Hang on a sec."

He was back with them in no time.

"Thanks, man." Ray pulled the shirt on first because he was shivering; the sun was going down. He hadn't realized how chilled he was until he actually had the clothes in his hands.

"Hurry up, Vecchio," Dewey said, watching a blue-and-white come screaming into the parking lot, lights blazing. "Cover up that big wang before it makes the papers."

"You're just jealous," Ray said, shooting a will-you-please-explain-your-partner look at Huey.

Huey shrugged. "He's just jealous."

"Gentlemen," Fraser said, distantly, in his Canadian-schoolmarm voice.

Ray snickered as he pulled on Huey's sweatpants and undid the drawstring knot so he could tighten them enough to stay on. "Cops are _not_ gentlemen, Fraser, at least down here in the U.S. of A. Thought you knew that."

He went over and Mirandized the perps twice each, just to be safe.

 

Paramedics arrived, and by that time some uniforms had found two more of the goons, unconscious, in the parking lot on the other side of the blown-up building. Ray waved the paramedics over to where the uniforms were guarding the unconscious goons. He didn't want anybody looking him over too close right now, and he was sure Fraser and Frannie didn't want to be examined, either.

More patrol cars screeched in. Lieutenant Welsh got out of one of them, came over, asked them if they were all right, and then went off to check on the arrests. He didn't even glare at Ray, though Ray knew that was coming, the next time he was in Welsh's office at the very latest.

Thing was, Ray didn't really care. He'd gotten Fraser and Frannie through the worst, Frannie'd kicked ass, Fraser'd got them all out alive. Those things were important. Welsh chewing Ray's ass for going in alone--with Frannie--didn't even register on Ray's personal Richter scale right now.

But he kept remembering Fraser's hands on him._ That_ had registered.

Ray glanced over by the dumpster where the bad guys were, but he couldn't see much, what with the smoke and crap. After a minute or so, about four really biguniforms appeared through the smoke, pushing Greenie ahead of them cuffed and shackled. That was good, it was so good, because Ray wanted that giant scumbag to do some serious time_._

A couple of uniforms found Pinstripes, the camera guy, and another big goon propped against the building next door, awake, but too overcome by smoke to run. From what Ray could see, Frannie had done a number on Camera Guy's face: the guy was bleeding like a stuck moose.

When the uniforms got Thorwald on his feet, he looked like he'd been knocked for a serious loop, whether by the explosion, or the head butt he'd taken from Ray, or just by being captured again, Ray didn't know. But for once Thorwald looked like the lunatic he was. His Thurston Howell suit was torn and sooty, his hair was singed, and while they were cuffing him he rolled his eyes so the whites showed.

Ray saw a big uniform with linebacker shoulders trying to stuff him into a nearby blue-and-white while he yelled and struggled. Ray took a few steps over in that direction just to make sure the scumbag had no chance of slithering out of the uniform's control.

Thorwald saw Ray, and he tried to twist around just as he was being handed into the car, but he didn't get very far. Miller had a real good grip on him. Still, Thorwald managed to yell, "You fucked your sister, Vecchio! Tape or no tape, you'll never live it down!"

Ray was an undercover guy; he knew how to project a cool he didn't feel. Plus, perspective. So he yawned. "Guy'll say anything."

Miller nodded briskly. "Yeah, we seen this creep before. Total psycho." He slammed the cruiser's door shut.

"Lock him up and keep him this time," Ray said.

He turned back to find Huey hovering by his elbow. "So what happened to your clothes?" He had his notepad out.

"Oh, God, don't take notes, Jack. Please?"

"Got to take notes at the scene," Huey said reasonably. "Come on, Ray, you know procedure."

"I'll tell you," Frannie piped up. She looked Ray in the eye as if to say _Don't worry, I can handle this. _And she could, Ray realized. She could do a lot of things he hadn't realized she could do.

She craned her neck to see Huey's notepad. Even in her heels she didn't quite come up to Huey's shoulder. "Guy's a sicko. Wanted my underwear and makeup. Took Ray's clothes."

"All your clothes? Every stitch?" Dewey asked.

Ray nodded uncomfortably, but Dewey wasn't laughing, he was just squinting like he was trying to figure out a tough puzzle.

"Huh," Dewey said. "Maybe to try to slow you down if you escaped."

Ray shrugged. He didn't care what Dewey assumed. Especially seeing as the truth was worse than anything Dewey could come up with.

"Just you?" Huey asked. "Looks like they got some of Fraser's and Frannie's stuff, too, huh? Or was that because of the fire?"

"He wanted Fraser stripped down, too, but Fraser was being held in the studio in the back, so we got a couple of his things out with us." Ray left Frannie out of it. Let Huey assume her blouse had been scorched, or better yet, that she still had it on under Fraser's jacket. Hopefully Jack wouldn't pursue the issue of Frannie's makeup and thong.

Ray looked away, pretending to be distracted. He squinted, trying to see where the studio door had been, but it was all pretty much a smoking black heap at this point.

Huey looked at Fraser more closely. "You look a little banged up, Red. They do that?"

Fraser just sort of nodded and looked at the gravel underfoot.

Ray didn't like where the line of questioning was going. "He might have a few extra bumps from running out of an exploding building, but yeah, Thorwald had him tied up and..." Ray kind of choked. "I think they hit him a few times."

"It's not important," Fraser said, looking up. "What is important is that they killed a man in front of me."

"Oh, God," Huey said.

Fraser put a hand up to rub his eyebrow.

Huey scratched his head and looked over at the smoking building. The fire crew seemed to have it mostly under control. "So I take it any stuff of yours that was still in there is toast," he said to Ray.

"Must be. My stuff was in the bar office. I think that went up in the second ‘boom.' Or the third." Damn. He'd loved those boots. Breaking in a new pair was a pain in the feet.

"They get your badge?" Huey asked. Dumb question.

"You saw me when you pulled up. I look like I had anywhere to keep my badge?"

"Oh," Huey said. "Right."

"Wait," Frannie chirped, rummaging in her purse. "I got it right here."

"Wow." Okay, Ray was seriously impressed. "Good thinking, Frannie. How'd you manage that?"

"I palmed it when I put the makeup back in my bag," she said, looking up at him with solemn brown eyes. "It's my brother's star."

Ray didn't have a sister, but he couldn't have done better. He wondered if Vecchio knew how lucky he was.

He took the shield from her and pinned it very carefully to the waistband of his sweatpants. Then he put his arm around her. "Your brother is a lucky man."

She laid her head against his chest, and suddenly he could tell she was dog-tired. "I have two brothers," she said. "I think that makes me the lucky one."

Ray put his other arm around her, too, squeezed tight, and kissed the top of her head. He held her that way until Welsh came back for them.

 

As it turned out, Ray didn't need to worry that he'd be standing there barefoot in Huey's sweats for hours while Welsh grilled him. Welsh took one look at him and Frannie and Fraser and said they'd all better get off their feet.

"You got enough of a statement?" he asked Huey.

"I'm not sure. I think they were kind of dazed from the escape and the fire and the explosions, sir," Huey said. "But we have Thorwald and all the goons for kidnapping two officers and a civilian, and Fraser says Thorwald had a guy killed in front of him."

"My snitch Gorman," Ray said, and yawned twice.

"The body?" Welsh asked.

Fraser shook his head. "I don't know where they took it."

"It'll turn up. Bodies usually do," Welsh said. "Anything else?"

Ray couldn't look at Fraser; he really couldn't make his eyes go there. He looked at Frannie instead. "Well, there is one thing," he said. "Frannie...she'd make a good cop, sir. She ought to think about the Academy."

"Really?" Frannie said, her voice sort of squeaking.

"She's real cool under pressure," Ray said.

"I already know that, Detective," Welsh said, and his eyes had this soft look in them that Ray had never seen before. "I look forward to your full report."

Ray looked away. There wasn't going to be any damn full report. "Details are kind of sketchy, sir. But the gouges in that perp's face came from those pointy stilettos on Frannie's feet."

"All right," Welsh grunted. "And as to what she was doing there in the first place?"

"My fault, sir," Ray said, because it was.

"No, it wasn't," Frannie said calmly. "It was my own fault. I already tried to tell Ray that."

"He's a detective of the Chicago PD," Welsh told her. "He takes a civilian into a known-dangerous situation, a hostage situation, it's his responsibility. He'll have to answer for it."

Frannie gave Ray the big puppy-dog eyes. He could see the wheels turning, the ones that would drop the waterfall any minute now. He tried to beam her the message to cut it out. She was going to have enough to cry about without being guilty over Ray losing his job.

"He's right, Frannie," Ray said, turning to Welsh. "I'll explain, sir. But if you want my shield...lucky thing my brave sister rescued it for me." He started to unpin it from his clothes. "My guns are gone, though. They were both in the office that blew."

Welsh looked from Ray to Frannie and back again, his eyes narrowed. Yeah, he'd realize something hinky was up: He'd never heard them be that nice to each other. He held up a hand. "Nobody's handing over any shields. You can give me the details tomorrow. Come in at noon."

"Noon, sir?"

"Yeah. You look like you could use some extra sleep."

Oh. Yeah. And a good number of the staff would be out for lunch. There'd be more privacy. Ray's lieu was a decent guy.

"Thank you, sir."

Welsh shot Ray a we-will-discuss-the-rest-of-this-tomorrow look, but then he kind of grunted and said "Go home" to Ray and Fraser, and before Ray could ask Frannie where she wanted him to drive her, Welsh offered her his arm and said he'd drive her home.

She looked at Ray, and then Fraser, and her eyes said stuff that she was never going to say aloud to either of them. Fraser looked at his feet. Ray nodded and gave her a little smile.

He liked the way Welsh offered her his rumpled trench coat and put his big, solid arm around her shoulders as they left, 'cause it made Ray realize she'd be okay. And that was important. It was damned important.

He turned to Fraser. Shit, it was really strange that Fraser hadn't said more than two words since everybody showed up. No Inuit stories. No fifteen-minute-long recaps to Welsh.

"Home?"

"Home..." Fraser said in a funny voice. "Ah. Well, Consulate."

"Not the Consulate," Ray said. "Not after we went through all that...um...those explosions. You're with me, buddy. I realize my apartment ain't much, but it beats your office all to hell. Car's parked a few blocks over that way." He had a spare key taped in a safe spot under the chassis. He'd do okay.

He heard Dewey's whiny voice behind them as they left. "Jack, is he going to drive barefoot? You know that's a violation of..."

And Huey saying, in a weary voice, "Shut up, Tom."

 

Fraser was pretty quiet all the way to Ray's apartment. Ray didn't push it. He didn't want to do something girly like insist they _talk,_ but at the same time he really kind of needed to know whether Fraser was going to be okay about what happened, at least enough to still work with Ray.

He knew better than to push Fraser on it, though. Besides, Fraser let Ray take him home and make him tea, and he didn't even put up a fight when Ray insisted he take the first shower. So there was at least a possibility that Fraser was okay about everything and was just digesting it or something. Ray found him an oversized t-shirt and a pair of old sweats that were stretchy and loose, but clean and without holes, and when Fraser came out of the bathroom, wet and wrapped in a towel and still quiet, Ray just pointed at the sweats and went to take his shower.

It took him about three shampooings to get the smoke out of his hair, but Ray managed it pretty quick, and by the time he came out he found Fraser perched on one hip against Ray's desk, dressed in the sweats and finishing the last of his tea. He looked totally down for the count, like Ray felt. It was only around nine o'clock, but Ray felt ready to drop.

"You want to turn in?"

"A very good idea," Fraser said.

Ray hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "Sleep in the bed," he said. "Plenty of room."

"The couch or even the floor will be..."

"No way, Fraser. Not after the beating you took. Not after getting knocked flat by three explosions. You are not sleeping on my floor."

"Ray. I won't put you out of your bed."

"So don't. Plenty of room for both of us. Compared to that padded balance beam you usually sleep on, my bed is like, um...like a vast, open ice field. Except without the ice." He tried to sound casual, offhand, not to spook the Mountie. Because if Fraser didn't trust him enough to sleep next to him now, then their partnership was totally fucked.

C'mon, Fraser, he thought. He didn't dare meet Fraser's eyes. "I don't snore," he said.

"I know." Fraser sighed. "Very well, I...thank you, Ray."

Ray shrugged. "It's buddies, Fraser."

So they hit the sack.

Ray thought he'd drop right off, but after he got in the bed, he realized he had to get something straight with Fraser. He turned on his side and reached his hand over on top of the covers, held it out, waiting.

Fraser blinked, then slowly put his hand out and grasped Ray's. He held it like you'd hold a raw egg, like Ray was fragile or something. Or like this thing between them, whatever it was, was fragile. Ray firmed up his grip. It wasn't like they'd never clasped hands before, even before today.

Fraser's fingers tightened, too, slowly, carefully.

"Frase?"

"Yes, Ray?"

"I'm gonna have to make some kind of report to Welsh tomorrow."

"I know."

"Look, I know you don't like to leave anything out of a police report. You like to dot the Is and cross the Ts and all that. Follow procedure like a perfect Mountie."

"That's usually my preference, yes," Fraser said. His tongue darted out on his lip for a split second.

"But I can't, I...we shouldn't, this time. You know. We put all the details in there, even if we get it sealed there's no way people won't find out."

"Are you...are you so ashamed, Ray?"

"Nah, it's not that. But people wouldn't understand. If we let on about what really happened, the PD is gonna get trashed almost as bad as Thorwald wanted."

Fraser cleared his throat, but his voice still came out sounding husky. "Oh. You're probably right."

"Not to mention the brass might decide a dumb flatfoot with weird hair ain't worth keeping on the city payroll. Not after he's been the tabloid shocker of the week."

Fraser's hand actually shook a little on Ray's. "Ray. Please. Make whatever report to Lieutenant Welsh you see fit. I'll back you up."

"You'd lie for me, Fraser?"

"My inattention put us all in that situation, Ray. The least I can do is not to allow the miscreant to wrong you and Francesca as he intended."

"It would wrong you, too."

Fraser shrugged one shoulder. "Unimportant. I really have no reputation to lose."

If by that Fraser meant everyone already thought he was a freak in a red suit, he had a point.

Ray tightened his grip on Fraser's hand. Fraser had made absolutely no move to let go, which was cool. "How'd they get you, anyway?"

"I believe they had me followed. Possibly even from the police station all the way back to the Consulate. When I went out to pick up Inspector Thatcher's dry cleaning, they ambushed me on a side street."

"How many?"

"Four, with automatic weapons. Still, I could possibly have done something. Talked to them."

"Hard to find the right thing to say to an Uzi."

"There is that, yes."

"So it wasn't your fault."

"Good of you to say, but there were moments of distraction on their part. I probably could have escaped. I chose not to. They'd let on quite early at whose behest they were abducting me, and knowing the importance of Thorwald's recapture, I thought it opportune that I was being taken to him."

"Fraser, you cannot let a bad guy drag you somewhere because you think you can dazzle him with your red jacket and your ability to recite your entire Mountie administration manual thingy word for word."

Fraser let out a heavy sigh. He'd have hung his head, Ray was sure, if he hadn't been flat on his back. "I thought I was risking only my life this time, Ray, but yet again I ended up risking yours as well. And Francesca's also. I'm terribly sorry."

Ray blew out a breath, too. "See, this is where you missed out, Fraser, not having Saturday morning cartoons up there in the Northwest Areas."

"How so?"

"'Cause you learn important stuff. Number one rule, Fraser: Never let the henchmen drag you back to the lair."

"Ah. Well, now I know."

"Now you know."

"Ray, I'm...I'm truly, deeply..."

"Fraser," Ray interrupted fast. "Don't you dare apologize to me. Don't you dare. I don't want to hear it." Not that Fraser didn't owe him an apology or two for the Superman act, but if Fraser started apologizing for that, he might start in apologizing for other stuff, too, like doing Ray, and Ray didn't think he could stand that, even lying down. Especially not with Fraser holding his hand.

Fraser swallowed hard and didn't speak.

"Just promise you won't do it again. Promise me, Fraser. If there's a choice, you wait for backup. You at least wait for your partner."

"I promise, Ray."

It was enough, for now.

Ray fell asleep still holding Fraser's hand.

 

Ray slept like a rock and didn't remember anything else till almost nine in the morning, when the sun came in the window too bright. Since he'd slept about twelve hours by then, he didn't even mind getting up.

Of course he was stiff and hurting all over from being knocked flat so many times, not to mention the other stuff. But he stretched and got up, and he didn't really mind all the twinges, because one of them felt so good that none of the others mattered.

The good one was more a deep ache than a twinge, and maybe it would even wear off before the day was over, but it was here today, and Ray loved it, because it reminded him what it felt like to have Fraser inside him.

The only other trace of Fraser was a note left on the pillow next to Ray's like a Dear John letter. But it wasn't one. It was just a couple of lines that said Fraser had gone back to the Consulate so he could get into uniform and report for duty by eight-thirty like a good little Mountie.

Freak.

Never mind being decked by three explosions, being tied up and beaten, and, oh yeah, being forced to fuck Frannie and Ray at gunpoint. There were immigration forms to fill out! Stupid tourist questions to answer! Dry cleaning errands to run!

Thinking about all of that made Ray's stomach turn over, but since it was empty, he just ignored it. He made coffee and drank a lot of it, he left the TV off (because who wanted to see the news?), he fed the turtle, and he practiced not thinking. A lot.

He was getting good at it.

 

Ray dragged his sorry ass to the station a half hour early 'cause he had more to deal with than just his scheduled ass-chewing from Welsh.

Frannie was already there when he walked in. He found her puttering around her desk, straightening up stuff, moving it, and straightening it again, obsessively.

It would've been weird on any other day, but Ray understood. He'd done some of that kind of thing at his place, too. He'd actually dusted the apartment_,_ which he couldn't remember the last time that happened.

"Hey, Frannie," he said. "Jeez, what are you doing in here today?"

"Hey yourself, bro." She sounded okay. Looked great, as usual. Her eyes were a little puffy, but she was clearly holding it together. "Lieutenant Welsh wanted me to stay home, but I felt like coming in here and, I don't know, organizing something."

He leaned over her and pitched his voice real low. "Frannie, uh, I gotta...I gotta talk to you, okay?"

"Sure." She let him lead her into Interview Two. He checked that the observation room was empty and locked, then he came in, shut the door, and got her a chair.

"So, Frannie...so here's the deal of the thing." Ray leaned his hip against the table next to her. "Look, I don't know when your real brother's coming back, but when he does, there are some things we can't share with him. You get that?"

Her dark eyes were wide, solemn. "Oh. But, Ray..."

"Don't ‘but Ray' me. Vecchio would kill me if he knew. Worse, he'd kill Fraser."

"Oh, Ray. My brother's not a killer."

"Frannie. God, I hate to distill--disill--you know, destroy your fantasies here, but your brother's undercover with the _mob._ We don't know what kinds of things he's been forced to do while under. And undercover, it's not...look, this doesn't happen to everybody, but some guys...some jobs can change a guy. In ways that nobody could predict ahead of time." Didn't he know it.

"Oh." Damn, she really looked like she was going to cry now, and what kind of heartless bastard was Ray that he'd made her cry, like, seven times in just the past twenty-four hours?

"Look, the point of the matter of the thing is, there's going to be stuff he can't tell us."

"Oh," she said in a small voice. She swallowed very hard.

"Now there's something we can't tell him. You got that?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do."

"Good. That's...good." He scratched at his neck awkwardly. "Um, it's probably way too soon to know, huh? If there might be any other reper-whatsis. Repercussions." He gestured. "You know, if you might be..."

She sighed. "Yeah, it's too soon. Be a couple weeks."

"Two weeks," he said. "You're sure?"

She nodded. "I'm like clockwork."

Shit. That was not good. Two weeks, that was not good. Ray wasn't what you'd call a sensitive new-age guy, and he'd almost flunked math in high school, but this math he knew. If there was one thing he'd become expert at over the Stella years, it was not getting her pregnant. At first because they weren't married, and then afterward because Stella didn't want to interrupt her career, and then after that because they weren't married all over again.

"Nothing to do but wait, huh?"

"Right." She swallowed hard. "Because I...you know I'm Catholic."

Ray shrugged. "Me, too, not that I ever set foot in a church anymore. They make me kinda nervous."

"What I'm trying to say, Ray, is that if there is any, you know, repercussion from that, that thing. That happened. I can't, you know, I just can't...do anything about it. I mean, other than _have _it."

"We on the same page here?" Ray wasn't entirely sure.

"If we're talking about how there could be another little Vecchio running around the house, we are."

"You didn't ask for that," Ray said. "It'd be tough on you."

"I know. But I just couldn't--" Her hand dropped down to her belly. She didn't seem to notice. "Look. I wouldn't ask for anything from you or Fraser."

He snorted. "You think he wouldn't take responsibility? If it was his? You think I wouldn't? Which we both know if there is one it's probably mine. Because I...I kinda screwed up there at the end. I didn't make sure...."

"Ray, don't. It's just as much my fault." She fiddled with her fingernail, breaking a chip of polish off, frowning.

"Frannie," he said, running a hand through his hair, feeling it spike up like it was shocked, which maybe it was. "Whatever happens, I'll be here for you."

"Ray...you can't. Don't you see? You couldn't even acknowledge it. Not and risk Ray's life."

"I could take responsibility for it, Frannie, which that is what I would do. Child support, afternoons at the park, doctor visits, the whole deal. You get that?"

She put her hand on his arm. "No, Ray. You could maybe help me as a friend. But you couldn't admit it was yours. Or Fraser's, if...well, whosever it would be, if it...if there was one."

Damn, this was confusing. "I could admit it. When my name's not Vecchio anymore."

"Not even then. It'd kill Ma if she knew."

"She likes me. She likes Fraser. She'd think you went with one of us and you know, got a little crazy, maybe drunk. Youthful indiscretion kinda thing. She'd get over it."

Frannie shook her head. "She's too sharp. There isn't enough Chianti in the world to make me risk Ray's life for a fling, and she'd know it. Besides, how would we explain you hanging around and not marrying me even though you never seem to have a girlfriend?"

He pushed off from the table and squatted down next to her chair. "I ever tell you why Stella and me broke up?"

She snorted. "Only a few hundred times, Ray."

"Then you know I wanted kids. Wanted them bad."

"Ray. Come on."

"I did!" he protested. What, she didn't believe him?

"That was in the past, Ray. This is now. You're not going to be able to raise a kid."

"I could."

"No. You're not going to marry me. You're not going to marry any woman, not again."

"That one of your famous leaps of illogic?"

She gave him a look that was too sad to be a smile. "You don't gotta insult me, Ray. I may not know how to speak Canadian, but I _can_ see what's right under my nose. If you hit me over the head with it long enough."

He didn't bother trying to figure that one out. "Oh, yeah? And that is?"

"You. Being, you know. I _know,_ Ray."

"What?" Because she couldn't _know;_ how could she?

"You being a certain way that I probably shouldn't say in the middle of a police station, even this one, 'cause you never know who's around."

Shit. "How did I...? I mean, nobody else around here knows. They can't."

"I don't think they do. Looking back, I gotta wonder how come they can't see what's under their noses, either, but I guess that's good. Cops got a reputation for having a problem with that kind of thing."

Yeah. An understatement if Ray'd ever heard one.

She added, "Only reason I know is I was there."

Oh. Right. When Ray sucked Fraser's cock. When Ray took Fraser up the ass and loved it. Kinda hard to miss, even for Frannie.

He met her steady dark gaze straight on. "Okay. So you know."

"Yeah. So I also know why he's never been interested in me. I wish he'd just have come out and told me. Except I guess he doesn't want to _come out,_ huh? Can't say I blame him, the way people can be."

Ray banged the side of his head with his hand. He couldn't have heard that correctly. "Look, Frannie, so you guessed about me, but don't go thinking _Fraser _is--"

"Ray if I can finally face reality, you can."

"Jesus, Frannie, you can't think stuff like that about Fraser just because Thorwald made him do, uh, stuff. He's not gonna let his friends die when he can prevent it. Do not go reading any more into it; you'll make yourself nuts."

Ray knew all about that, didn't he? He'd had plenty of crazy thoughts about stuff like that, wondering if a particular smile from Fraser meant anything more, imagining it was a smile Fraser saved only for Ray.

He'd spent too many hours thinking about the times when Fraser grabbed his hand for some totally legitimate police reason--like pulling Ray back before he fell off something high or letting Ray haul him to his feet--and then forgot to let go. Which left them standing on a roof or in an alley holding hands for way longer than anybody normal would have, or at least that's what Ray thought.

And God, after those incidents, Ray wondered, but then neither of them said anything about it, and he realized it was his goddamned wishful thinking working overtime again, just like it always had with Stella.

He'd really made himself crazy for a day or two after the _Henry Allen_, thinking about whether Fraser buddy-breathing him mouth-on-mouth, which was a freaky way to do it, meant anything had changed.

Ray'd asked. And Fraser had said no. Fraser had called it "standard procedure" and gotten all snippy with Ray. And Fraser hadn't brought it up again, so Ray hadn't, either.

Ray'd gone around in his head about that one a lot over the last couple of weeks since it happened, nights he couldn't sleep, especially. The problem with going around and around was it never got you anywhere.

Frannie didn't seem to be following Ray's line of thought at all. "You know, if I'd actually noticed what Fraser _did _any time I came near him, how he stiffened up, got all proper and, you know, _stiff_, sometimes even ran away...I'd have realized Fraser wouldn't lay a hand on me except at gunpoint." She sighed.

"So, look. If there is...any _repercussion_, it's going to be an immaculate conception as far as I'm concerned." She fiddled with her nail again for a minute. Finally she smiled, a kind of sad smile, but a smile. "How many of those you think I'd have to have to make the cover of _Life_ Magazine?"

"Jeez, Frannie."

"It's okay."

"You should go home and...rest. You should rest up."

"Yeah. Soon as I'm done with my pencil drawer I'm going home."

He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed as he stood up. God, she was so tiny. "All right...sis. Just remember I'm here."

"Thanks, Ray." She glanced up at him, looking grateful like a puppy that was glad you hadn't kicked it.

Ray had to turn away so he wouldn't start bawling.

He actually felt relieved to be heading into the lieu's office for his ass-chewing. There were different levels of suckitude.

Perspective, he reminded himself.

Six paces from Welsh's office, Ray saw a flash of red in the corner of his eye. He whipped around.

Fraser. Standing next to Ray's desk with his big hat in his hands like he wasn't sure he had permission to sit down.

Ray stopped in his tracks. "Frase."

"I'm here, Ray." A world of meaning in three words.

"You got off early?"

"Lunch hour." Fraser shrugged.

Ray was kind of surprised to see him, but glad. Still, Fraser couldn't go in with him. Ray had to face the chin music on his own.

He gestured toward Welsh's door. "I gotta...um."

"I know."

"So I'll...I'll catch you when I come out?"

"I'll be right here, Ray."

Ray hadn't realized how tight his chest was feeling until the breath he'd been holding whooshed out of him. Damn, now there was a lump in his throat all over again. "Thanks, Frase."

Fraser just nodded, and that nod said, loud and clear, _Partners, Ray. Partners and friends. _

Ray's spine suddenly had more starch than Fraser's boxer shorts. He shook out his shoulders and cracked his neck. "Okay. I'm good."

He knocked and went in.

Welsh looked up at him with tired eyes, like always. "Vecchio. Let's just pretend that I chewed your ass about bringing a civilian with you when you went into a hostage situation." He sighed. "Because, odd as it may seem, once I gave the matter due consideration last night, I realized you're too good a cop to do something like that without a damn good reason."

"Maybe. Maybe not." Ray sighed too. "Look. It was the wrong thing to do, and I still don't know what else I could have done. There was no time. I needed her underwear, those were her terms. She wanted to tag along. I thought I was only meeting Gorman, my snitch. Not the kidnapper, just the go-between. Gorman was a jerk, but harmless. He wouldn't have hurt Frannie."

"I'm gonna take your word for it. Just don't ever--_ever--_let her do it again."

"She won't, sir." Frannie'd learned her lesson, that was for sure.

Welsh held up a beefy hand. "Take the rest of the day, Detective. You want to take a couple of days to write your report, that's okay. I know more happened in there than meets the eye, and just from what I got in this preliminary report it doesn't sound good." He opened a file folder on his desk.

"Yeah?" Ray tried not to let on how interested he was in that report.

"Huey and Dewey said you were naked and covered in dust and ashes when they arrived."

"Yeah. Pretty much."

Welsh looked down at the report, tapped a finger about halfway down. "They reported that Francesca was wrapped up in Fraser's jacket and seemed disheveled but uninjured, and that Fraser was half-dressed, barefoot, and a bit banged up from what you said was a torture session."

Ray shifted from one foot to the other, and back again. "What do you want in my report, Lieu? That they hit him? How many times they hit him? Because I do not know that, I didn't see it."

"What _did_ you see?"

Ray breathed out, carefully. "They had him tied to a chair with a lot of rope. They...they had tape over his mouth. And although I sometimes might indulge a little daydream of doing the same thing, like when he's telling one of those Eskimo Joe stories..."

"Don't we all," Welsh said.

"Yeah. Well, the real thing wasn't funny."

"No, I don't imagine it was."

"The big thing was they capped Gorman right in front of him. And he couldn't...he couldn't get out of the chair and he couldn't talk them out of it."

"Huey got a short description of the murder from Fraser. Gangland-style execution, one bullet to the back of the head. It was instantaneous. We'll have to get Fraser back in here to get more details, ID the trigger man, write a statement."

"He's at my desk right now."

"It'll keep," Welsh said. "Fraser's got a memory like the proverbial steel trap." He got up and went over to his office window, poked a finger through the blinds and peered through in the direction of Ray's desk. "Christ, he looks dead on his feet."

"He says he's okay." Ray shrugged. "He went to work this morning at the usual time."

Welsh turned back, letting the blinds snap back into place. "In that condition? What has Inspector Thatcher been smoking?"

"I've often wondered that myself, sir."

"He should not be working today. Hell, he probably should have a psych eval first. At the very least a day off."

"Yeah. Well." There weren't going to be any damn psych evals for any of them. "Thanks for the day off, Lieu."

Welsh looked at him with narrowed eyes, but he let Ray go.

At the door, Ray stopped and turned back. "Lieu, uh...if anything, um, survived the fire...." Ray'd seen enough in sixteen years on the force to know that sometimes the weirdest shit could be retrieved intact from crime scenes, even burned and bombed ones.

Welsh lifted his head. "If they recover your weapons or anything of yours, they'll let you know."

"Uh, yeah, I know. It's not that. It's..."

"Spit it out, Vecchio, I don't have all day."

"It's just...the um, the crime scene specialists are gonna be all over that studio. If anything should turn up that...uh, I just wanted you to know there's no evidence on film or videotape in there that we need. If you catch my drift."

"Not sure I do."

"If there was something," Ray said. "Hypothetically, you know. Something that maybe wouldn't reflect so well on the department even though there was no wrongdoing by any officer or...employee..." he glanced over toward the door, which was in the direction of Frannie's desk.

Welsh perked up like he was finally beginning to twig to what Ray was saying.

"Or liaison," Ray said.

"That goes without saying." Welsh parked his hands on his hips. "Fraser ever does anything even slightly impolite he writes himself up a reprimand. I got a file of them as long as my arm."

Ray snorted. "You can't make me believe he committed _that_ many politeness infractions."

Welsh let out the barest hint of a chuckle. "Not by Chicago standards. So what are we talking about? Does it have anything to do with those pointed insults Thorwald was flinging at you when we locked him up? Comments about you...and Miss Vecchio...?"

"Yeah, that kind of thing," Ray said, coming back over to the desk, willing Welsh to get it without Ray having to say it straight out. "That's what I mean. See, Frannie, she doesn't need that kind of talk going any further. And if there was to, uh, come to light any footage or pictures of her with less clothes on than she normally wears, which we both know ain't all that much...it wouldn't really reflect well on the CPD, even though it was the bad guys who, you know. Took our clothes."

"I see. And you're certain no officer acted in a manner that..."

"I'm not trying to cover up a crime, here, Lieu," Ray said, cutting to the chase. "I didn't do nothing wrong in there, neither did Frannie or Fraser. But we wouldn't want to further victimize someone who--hypothetically speaking--was victimized already by the perps, would we, sir?"

Welsh's brows drew together in a frown. Not his usual _you fucked up the paperwork, Vecchio,_ frown, either.

"You trying to tell me something here, Ray? Something along the lines of there was an assault?"

"Not...along those lines. Not exactly. Can't press charges for stuff that, uh. Didn't happen."

Welsh stared him down, was probably still staring, boring a hole through Ray and into the far wall, long after Ray looked away. "Oh, really. Mind telling me what _didn't _happen, Detective?"

"Lots of things didn't happen," Ray said. "That could, uh, hypothetically have happened. Stuff that would make somebody maybe even want a psych eval, except if they didn't want to let on anything, uh, untoward had happened. If it did, which it..."

"Detective. You're making my head hurt. Are we talking about something worse than naked pictures, here?"

"Um. Hypothetically? Yeah, worse."

"Do I sense that your report might somehow turn out less than complete?"

"Oh...uh, no sir. Of course not. It will be complete to the, uh, best of our recollection. The problem being that we got knocked flat by three separate explosions, and, uh, you know, memories might be a little...fuzzy. After that."

Welsh rolled his eyes. "I thought chess was your game, not poker, but I'll bite. What, pray tell, might hypothetically have happened that might hypothetically fuck up a detective on my staff, a Mountie who writes his own reprimands, and a female member of the Vecchio clan?"

"Fuck up," Ray said. "Good, uh, choice of words. Sir." He gave Welsh the Butch Cassidy high sign, the thumb to the side of the nose.

Welsh stared at him for a second, then looked back down at the folder on his desk. His finger traced over the line near the top where Huey reported finding Ray naked. Welsh's finger tapped the word "naked." His face darkened. "Jesus. Thorwald."

"Two guys that don't belong in the same sentence for a hundred, Alex," Ray said. He felt his face going hot.

Welsh ran a hand through his hair, a gesture Ray usually saw him do only when someone from the IRS was present in the building. "Jesus Christ, they...somebody...Ray, you--"

Ray held up a hand. "It's not what you're thinking."

"What am I supposed to think? Were you hurt? Did you--did you see a doctor? Is there any reason to think you've been exposed to any..."

"No, sir. Not that. None of the perps touched me. I mean, they grabbed my arms and frisked me for my guns, but they didn't, you know. What you're thinking."

"But someone did?"

"Not without my consent, sir. Although it wouldn't, uh, the place wouldn't have been my choice, or the, uh, audience."

"Audience. _Audience?_"

"Well, if something like that hypothetically happened, it would be because there would hypothetically be a bunch of goons standing around with Uzis and stuff _making_ it happen."

"I see."

"And, uh, that warehouse, it was a... Well, you know what kind of business he had."

Welsh's eyes went big like dinnerplates. "I thought we shut him down."

"Guy's a zillionaire. Guess you can always buy lights and cameras." Ray coughed. "And action."

"Jesus H. Christ on a tour bus." Welsh put his head in his hands like it really hurt, and he groaned. "The picture I'm getting here is very disturbing, Detective. Because in this hypothetical picture it looks like you and Miss Vecchio were forced to..."

"And Fraser."

"Oh, God. Francesca."

"Yeah."

Okay, so the lieu probably did get the picture.

"None of you wants to press charges? That what you're saying?"

"Sir. I got two jobs here. Number one, detective first grade with the Chicago PD. Number two, being Ray Vecchio. Pursuing that hypothetical line of inquiry could jeopardize both. And I didn't do nothing wrong.

"But, look. I know that guys who didn't do nothing wrong sometimes get hung out to dry for the greater good, I get that. Only I don't know who that helps here except the bad guys. If the people of Chicago want to waste their investment in one scruffy detective, that's too bad, but it's not the end of the world. 'Cause I can always go rebuild engines for a living, which let me tell you that is a hell of a lot safer line of work."

"But, uh, if what seemed like compromising stuff about Ray Vecchio and his sister came out..." He almost choked on the words "came out."

Welsh was nodding. "It could cost the real Ray Vecchio his life. Yeah. Okay, you made your point."

"So you'll make sure if they find anything...?"

"They won't." Welsh's tired blue eyes were steady.

"Because our CSS guys, they're pretty good, they don't miss much."

Welsh leaned back in his chair. "We roped off the building. The fire department didn't want anyone in there until they were sure it was totally cooled off. Bomb squad goes in next to check for any more explosives. CSS is third on the list; they haven't gone in yet."

Ray blew out a relieved breath. "Is there any way to--I mean, you know I wouldn't want to obstruct the investigation in any way. But--"

"I have a number," Welsh said, so quietly that Ray had to lean closer to hear him. "I have one phone number. It goes way up the ladder. To the agency that authorized Vecchio's mission. I can call them if there's any reason to think Vecchio's identity might be in danger of being compromised."

"Thank you, sir." Ray's voice came out sounding breathless. He tried to take a deep breath, get more air. "There's one more thing, sir."

Welsh blinked at him, waiting.

"If there should be any talk, you know, about Vecchio and his sister..."

"I'll put the kibosh on it," Welsh said. "Nobody in this division gets away with talking about Miss Vecchio like that."

"Thanks, Lieu. And, uh. You know, say, theoretically, if there was talk about anyone else. Like maybe Vecchio and his Canadian partner..."

Welsh set his elbow on the desk and dropped his chin into his hand. "What you and Fraser get up to on your own time is your business, _Kowalski_," Welsh said. Calling Ray by his own name for a change--that meant something. "And I don't tolerate that kind of talk in my division, either, as you know. Not even about you." He looked amused, but calm.

Jeez, did everybody around here already know Ray was kind of bent? Ray thought about making a retort, but that would've been dumb. Hell, he interrogated bad guys for a living. He knew better than to say too much and risk incriminating himself. Ray leveled one finger at him, but then dropped it. "Got it. Sir." He swallowed, glanced through the blinds at where Fraser stood, still looking like a lost puppy.

"Um, sir, do you think you could..."

"Yeah. I'll call the inspector." Welsh's eyes were kind. Maybe even sympathetic.

Ray couldn't look at that. "Thanks, Lieu."

"All right, get out of here. Go home and rest. I've got work to do."

And with that, Ray found himself out the door and standing in front of his desk, a little shocked that he still had a job.

He apparently still had a partner, too, which was greatness. Fraser was sitting on the very edge of the guest chair, still holding his hat by the brim and turning it over and over.

"C'mon, Frase," Ray said. "Let's go get some lunch."

 

There was no way Ray was going to sit in a restaurant. Even though nobody would really be paying any attention to him, he just couldn't stand the idea of anyone even _looking _at him. He'd been gawked at enough in Thorwald's warehouse, he guessed.

Or maybe Ray just didn't want anyone looking at Fraser.

So they picked up some sandwiches and went to Ray's place, and on the way there he told Fraser that Welsh was asking Thatcher to let Fraser off work the rest of the day.

Fraser insisted on calling the Consulate to confirm it, of course, and when he turned off Ray's phone he looked kind of surprised. "I told her I was fine."

"Yeah, well, she knows your definition of ‘fine' and everybody else's might be in different ballparks."

Fraser looked at him like that didn't make any sense.

Ray waved a hand. "Don't worry about it. Welsh probably made it sound like you're taking care of me, anyway."

"What did you tell him?"

"Enough for him to get the picture. Not enough for him to feel obligated to put it in any kind of official report."

"Thank God."

"Yeah, and we can also thank whoever Vecchio's working for, because they're gonna hush up whatever needs hushing."

"And any physical evidence?"

"Is gonna conveniently disappear. Pfft!" Ray sighed and turned the corner onto his street. "Which, you know I am all for Truth, Justice, and the, uh, North American way, Fraser, but Vecchio's life could depend on it. Not to mention Frannie's reputation."

When they got inside, and Ray tossed his keys on the bar and got Fraser some ice water and a plate and stuff, but when he looked at his own sandwich for a minute he realized he had never felt less hungry.

He stuck it in the fridge and went and put some fresh coffee on. When he finally poured himself a cup and sat down at the bar next to Fraser, he saw Fraser was at least trying to eat. So maybe this was an okay time to get the third tough conversation of the day out of the way.

Like lancing a boil, maybe it would end up hurting less.

"Fraser, about what I said...um. Back in the warehouse, the stuff I told you..."

"Please don't give it another thought. I don't lend any credence to things you might have said under duress."

Ray might as well break the big news, they'd already fucked; it wasn't like he was introducing a whole new concept here. Fraser was a smart guy, and more open-minded than Ray could understand sometimes. Fraser would just have to deal.

"Look, here's the deal of the thing. I'm sorry that you had to do that. It was...I know you're not...you know." He stared at Fraser, evil-eyeing him to understand. "But I meant what I said. I wanted it. I liked it. It happened, and it's over and doneski. You're my best friend, and if you want to stay that way, you can put this whole thing back in the closet where it was before."

"In the _closet,_ Ray?" Fraser swallowed like he was nervous.

"Yeah. Obviously a familiar environment for me."

"I'm not sure what you're saying."

"Don't act stupid, you're too Canadian for that. I know we haven't talked about it before in so many words, but this is me, Fraser. You gotta know I'm, um...well, bi."

"You want to buy what?"

"Not _buy_ like in a store,Fraser. _Gay_ bi. Bisexual. I like guys. Girls, too." How this was not obvious from his "performance" the day before he didn't know.

"Ray, to come to such a conclusion because you were raped and your body responded naturally is not logical."

"Logic, shmogic. Number one, I wasn't raped. I begged you for it. Number B, I should know if I'm queer or not."

"Ray--"

"I haven't been with a guy since the first time I lost Stella, before we got married. But I been getting off thinking about guys longer than I been able to grow a beard, which that is fucking _queer, _Fraser. I been in the closet longer than I been a cop."

Fraser swallowed hard, and Ray figured he knew what Fraser was thinking.

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you straight out, before. I was afraid you...well, that you wouldn't want to work with me any more. I tried to hint, though, lots of times. I wanted you to know, I just didn't want to have to say it so you'd feel like you had to dump me."

"Ray, I'd never _dump_ you, especially not for your sexual orientation. Surely you couldn't think I'd harbor prejudice of that sort--"

Ray breathed out, quick and sharp. "No, of course not. It's just...if I said it out loud, you'd think I wanted...Fraser, you run away from everybody who's attracted to you. I didn't want you to run away from me like that. I don't think I could've stood it."

"Are you attracted to me, Ray?"

"'Course I am. I wanted you the moment I saw you, and nothing's changed. Which brings me to Number C: having sex with somebody who wants to have sex with you, and agrees to do it, ain't rape."

"Ray, technically, you were forced into sexual intercourse, which is rape by any definition."

"‘Technically,' not by you, Fraser. Which, that is my point. Not by you. You didn't rape me. I wanted you." He swallowed real hard. He had to say this, but he could barely get the words out loud enough. "I still want you. I'm kind of crazy in love with you."

Ray fidgeted on his barstool. He wanted to_ do _something, he wanted to touch Fraser, put his arm around him or something. He wanted to jump out of his skin.

He hadn't felt like this since Stella.

"Which I'm sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. I don't mean to. I just...thanks for being willing to, you know, save our lives that way," Ray went on. "I'm sorry you got put through that."

Fraser looked surprised. "Ray. I would do anything to save your life, and nothing I could do in that circumstance would make me sorry." He swallowed hard. "Certainly not making love to you."

Making _love? _Was that Fraser's oddball Canadian way of saying "fucking" without having to use such a vulgar word? "You sure put up some resistance at the time," Ray said.

"I didn't understand that you really wanted me to.... I, er, thought you were sacrificing yourself for my sake." Something in Fraser's voice caught his attention.

"Well, I wasn't," Ray said. "Don't get me wrong: I would have--I would've done anything for you, even if I didn't want to. But I can't say I didn't want you to do me, because I did. I've wanted you to do me since that first day, when I turned around in the squad room and saw you standing there in your red suit, bigger than life and twice as gorgeous."

‘Dear God. Ray."

"Yeah."

"I didn't know, I didn't realize..."

"S'okay, Frase. I'm a cop; I gotta fly under the radar with the gay."

Fraser sat back and pushed his plate away from him. Most of his sandwich was still there. He sighed and looked back at Ray. "I wish you'd told me at the time. It might have made quite a lot of things easier."

"Like what? Like you could have run back to the Northwest Areas earlier? That what you're planning to do now?" Ray's heart was in his throat. Because he could feel things were changing between them, changing big time, and that was the only big change he could figure on happening.

"Oh, God, no. No, Ray. Even if they'd have me...I don't want to leave you." Fraser lifted a hand to scratch at his eyebrow. "I love you."

Ray couldn't help smiling. "Aw, Frase. I know that." It was nice to hear, anyway.

"Ray, I'm not sure if I'm being clear. Ah...you know I love you. You've known for some time. What I'm saying is that I'm _in _lovewith you."

Two beats, measured with Ray's heart. "You're kidding."

"No, Ray, I'm not."

"You--you're in love with me. You're in love with me?" Ray kind of squeaked on that last bit, but who could blame him?

Fraser nodded.

"Fraser, you're straight."

Fraser sort of winced. "Well, yes...at least, I always have been. Well...that is...I thought I was." He cleared his throat. Cracked his neck. "Ah...apparently I'm going to have to reevaluate that assumption."

Oh, this was worse than Ray'd realized. Now he had Fraser thinking _he_ might be gay or something, and Fraser would go and do something stupid out of guilt and confusion, but sooner or later Fraser would wake up and smell the bark tea. Ray would screw up at some point, Ray would do something wrong, and Fraser would be gone after all. He'd hightail it back to Freezerland so fast that Ray might not even see the Mountie-shaped skedaddle-marks in the air.

"Oh, God. This is like you said. This is you coming to a screwball conclusion because you got assaulted and your body did...what bodies do." Ray sighed and put his head in his hands. "Fraser, you're a guy."

"Thank you, Ray, I had noticed."

"A guy gets his cock touched enough, by anyone, his cock's gonna get hard. That's kind of how it works."

"I am aware of that as well."

"So you got touched, you got stroked, you got off...it's, uh, biology. And natural, and everything. But you don't got to conclude it's _love, _Fraser, and go ruin your life because of it."

"Ray."

"Look, I admit the three of us got assaulted; it's true, and since it's not something we want all over Chicago, we can't put it in the report, and since we didn't put it in the report, the department's not sending us for counseling because they don't think we need any."

"Ray."

"But isn't there someone--that doctor who gave you the chainsaw-closet-hammer test thing, maybe--that you could talk to about this?" Ray should probably call the guy too, because he had to be seriously, certifiably nuts himself to be protesting this.

"Ray."

"'Cause as much as I would like it if you really did, um, if you _were_ into guys, if you really were into me the way I'm into you, I can't let you throw away your future. You're going to have a perfect little Canadian wife and two point six outstanding Canadian kids, you're going to have a family, Fraser, like you haven't had since you were a little kid. You're going to--"

Fraser stopped him by clamping both hands on his shoulders, kind of hard. "Ray."

"What?"

"You're blithering."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"All right, Ray." Fraser flicked his tongue out over his lower lip, looking thoughtful. Oh, jeez, he was taking that literally. "There isn't going to be a perfect little Canadian wife and two point six Canadian kids."

"Huh? Why not?"

"Several reasons, but the important one is that I'm in love with _you,_ Ray. It's not the first time I've said it, but it isapparently something you don't know."

Fraser looked...he looked serious. Like, really serious. His deep, deep blue eyes were so...Ray could drown in those eyes. Except this was Fraser, the guy who never let Ray drown, no matter how close he came to it.

"You are?" His voice went really embarrassingly high and soft.

Fraser nodded, looking like he couldn't bring himself to speak, and his eyes were shiny at the corners.

He tilted his head at the perfect angle to kiss Ray. He even started lowering his mouth toward Ray's. And then he stopped. He straightened up. "I...have to go."

"Go? What the hell are you talking about? I thought you said you weren't going to leave me."

"Well, I meant I wasn't going North. I did think I might go back to the Consulate now, or...well, perhaps I should wait until after hours. Maybe a walk, then."

"I don't even get to kiss you?" This couldn't be happening. Ray scrubbed his hand over his eyes, but when he stopped he still saw Fraser leaving. He got between Fraser and the door.

"Ray, I...I can't take advantage of your feelings. There's no way to know what you'd choose if...if yesterday hadn't happened."

"This cannot be happening." Ray banged his forehead with the flat of his palm a few times.

"I was the instrument of your assault. I don't know how you can contemplate--"

"I can contemplate it just fine. The assault part was when they told us we had to do it. The assault part was me being scared you weren't going to be able to stand working with me any more. The assault part was where Frannie was involved and the henchmen were there with guns, and Thorwald was filming everything. But having sex with you--that was good.

"It was _good_, Fraser. I've wanted to get with you since I first laid eyes on you."

"Ray, how can you be sure you would feel the same way if ‘the assault part,' as you term it, hadn't happened?" God, Fraser was a stubborn cuss.

"Wait, you're saying because of what happened, I can't love you?"

Fraser hung his head.

"Jeez. You are saying that."

"You'll need time. To heal. To know what you truly want. It would be taking advantage of you at a vulnerable juncture to carry it any further now."

"That makes no fucking sense!" Okay, so that came out kind of loud. Ray toned his voice down. "Fraser, listen to me. I got through all that because I wanted to live. Because I wanted you to live. And I didn't want the scumbags to win."

Ray slumped back against the door. "They can't win, Frase. We can't let them fuck up our public lives, yeah, but even more than that, we can't let them fuck up our private lives. Then they'll have won.

"Don't you see? That's what Thorwald does. He wrecks people. He wrecks a lot of them when they're just teenagers. And we're going to see him go down for that, for all the lives he wrecked.

"Gomez-Garcia's going to throw the book at him on the prior conviction, and then he's gonna stand trial for Gorman's murder, too. We're gonna see justice done.

"But we're not gonna file charges about what he did to us after Gorman. We're gonna drop those, probably all of them, maybe even drop the firearms violations, because bringing any of that stuff into court lets his defense lawyer introduce stuff that could threaten Vecchio's cover, never mind you, me, and Frannie."

Ray flattened his back against the door. Fraser was damned strong, but he'd have to pry Ray off the door with a crowbar if he wanted to get out of the apartment.

Fraser was apparently trying anyway, reaching for the doorknob. What, Canadian money couldn't buy a clue?

Ray grabbed Fraser's forearms. "I thought we weren't going to let the bad guys win, Fraser. If you walk out of here without at least kissing me, they win."

"Ray I can't...I...haven't I taken advantage enough? You love me, you say you love me--"

"Because I do!"

"All right. All right, I understand that. I love you also, Ray. I've told you. But I've presumed on your love so much. Don't you see? It's my fault we were in that situation in the first place!

"I almost got you killed with a very similar mistake when we went after the three miscreants at the waterfront, and I didn't learn from it! I didn't learn, I never learn, and I've almost gotten you killed any number of times, and don't you see?"

"What? What don't I see? Tell me, Fraser." Whatever it was, Fraser had to get it out of him, this thing inside that hurt him so bad.

Fraser's voice went soft, really soft, _scary_ soft, and he said, "I'm...afraid, Ray. I'm afraid that one of these days it's not going to stop at almost." He choked on a sob like it was hurting him, strangling him.

"Oh, jeez. Frase."

"Don't love me, Ray. It isn't a very healthy thing to do."

For long minutes Ray couldn't even speak. Was Fraser finally getting this about himself, finally, like realizing he had to change it?

Or was he trying to tell Ray he was going to keep right on endangering Ray's life in the most insane ways a Canadian freak could think up?

"News flash for you, Fraser. I already knew that. Believe me, I've known that from the first day. I kind of got a clue when Vecchio's car exploded."

"The people who loved me, Ray...there've only been two. One spent ten years in jail because I turned her in. The first thing she did upon her release was to seek me out for revenge, and she came far too close to achieving it. She's a fugitive, an escaped murderer, thief, and criminal conspirator. When they find her..." He shut his eyes like he couldn't begin to think about it, but Ray heard what he wasn't saying. If she ever turned up, she would probably get a cell on death row.

And Ray knew, like he knew the sun was coming up tomorrow, that Fraser would blame himself.

On top of that, they'd probably call Fraser to testify against her. Ray forced his mind away from that picture. They'd probably never find her, anyway. Ray hoped to God they never did.

"And the other?"

Fraser let out a hollow laugh. "He was originally a childhood friend. He came back into my life a couple of years ago, and I'm sure he wishes he hadn't."

"What happened?"

"He confessed to and was convicted of accepting a bribe to throw a professional hockey game--a Class 4 felony--and banned for life from the sport he loved."

Oh, yeah. Smithbauer. There wasn't a hockey fan in Chicago who'd missed that when it happened. Plus Ray'd seen what Vecchio wrote about the whole thing.

"He do jail time?" Ray hadn't kept track of the story after the initial hoopla. He was a Hawks fan, he wasn't really up on the Stars.

Fraser nodded uncomfortably. "Not much, though. Thirty days, I think. The judge was lenient. Mark hadn't thrown the game after all, he'd returned the money, so he hadn't completed the contract. He was fined. And...banned. And there was..."

"Community service, probably. Plus the usual probation. Yeah. I remember him on the ice. Scrappy, but overall a class act. Bet you he took his punishment like a man."

"I'm certain he did."

"He, uh...he still talk to you?"

"Yes. I hear from him occasionally. He...he didn't blame me. I don't understand that, exactly, though of course I'm grateful."

"So he didn't really love you after all?"

Fraser sighed and worried his eyebrow with his thumb again. "I think he did, after a fashion. I..." he looked up at Ray, really intent, like he wanted to make sure Ray understood. "I never responded to his advances, Ray. They took place many years ago, before I went off to Depot. I was straight, or so I thought. Homosexual liaisons were frowned upon...everywhere. The towns I lived in, the RCMP. My grandparents didn't seem to have a high opinion of sex for any reason. Even procreation, I sometimes thought.

"I couldn't--wouldn't--love Mark the way he wanted."

Ray's gut squirmed. He knew what Smithbauer looked like: bigger than Fraser, built like a--well, like a world-class athlete, which he was. Good looking. Very hot. And Fraser'd cared about him. What bi guy would have turned down a hunk like Smithbauer? Maybe Fraser was just deluded. He was straight and he was deluded somehow, because he got off with Ray yesterday, into thinking he could possibly be...

"Ray." Fraser's hand was suddenly on Ray's shoulder. Fraser's knuckles just grazed Ray's chin, real, real gently. "It's not what you're thinking."

So Ray's thoughts were written all over his face again, huh? Apparently Ray even sucked at being a con job.

Fraser shook his head, looked into his eyes real seriously. "It's not that I wasn't attracted to him physically, though I tended to rationalize away any such..." he cleared his throat. "...feelings. But Mark lived a very itinerant lifestyle as a hockey player, and he...he maintained a lot of friends and acquaintances. I would have been only one of them."

"You're trying to say he was a slut." Like so many big-name sports guys.

Fraser colored. "Well, er...I wouldn't use such a term."

"I know. You're too nice. But sometimes, buddy, you gotta call a puck a puck.

"There you were, risking your life for the guy, and he couldn't even tell you the truth till you figured it out on your own. I read the file. You know I had to read all Vecchio's files, going back to when he started walking a beat."

Fraser swallowed real hard. He took his hand off Ray and rubbed his own eyes with it instead. He couldn't be tired, Ray figured, not with all that sleep. So he was holding back tears. Ray knew the feeling.

And fuck it, that made him mad. Why was Fraser carrying these burdens for other people, people who risked his life without a second thought to try to cover up their own wrongdoing?

Ray'd read both files. Neither one told the whole story; the pages screamed that loud and clear, between the lines of standard cop-talk.

But Ray didn't need to know all the facts to know one thing: "Their own doing, Fraser. Not yours."

"I betrayed them."

"Not a chance."

"How could you possibly know? You weren't there."

"I know you. You're my partner. And my friend."

Fraser swallowed hard, his eyes shiny.

"And my lover. Be my lover, Fraser."

"Ray..." Fraser's voice _broke._ "I can't. We can't. This...isn't the way it was supposed to happen. How can anything good come out of something like yesterday?"

"This didn't come out of yesterday, Fraser. Yesterday only did one thing. Yesterday only stripped the...the camouflage, the--the makeup--off what's been there all along."

Fraser staggered back against the louvered closet doors, making the hinges protest with a crunchy sound, like something broke.

Ray didn't care about that. More was breaking here than a fucking closet door.

"Jesus, Fraser. We need...something." Ray thought fast. "We gotta find a way to wash yesterday off of you. Don't you see? A lot of shit happened in the past, to both of us. There's gotta be a way to wash it off, get rid of it, get clean again. Start over."

"I went to confession," Fraser said. "Once. In Ray's church. When I felt the need to be...shriven."

"Shriven, what kinda word is that? Sounds like shriveled. Shriveled up? Old and worn out? What good is that?"

"It means absolved. Released from...sin. You could think of it as...washed clean, as confession in a Catholic church is supposed to do."

"You done your penance already, Fraser. If I know you, and I do, you done it a hundred times over."

"I...I don't know. I don't feel...cleansed."

Ray sighed. "Jeez. Churches make me nervous; I'm not a church kind of guy. But if it's what you need, we'll both go." He rested his head back against the door. "When you went before, did it work?"

"Well, not really," Fraser said. His voice sounded so tired, like he'd given up. That scared Ray more than hearing fear in Fraser's voice. "That is, I did feel somewhat better to have unburdened myself, at least to an extent, to a compassionate person who didn't know me and whose only concern was to help me, but..." He sighed. "Perhaps I needed something more...elemental."

"Huh?" Ray didn't have anything more intelligent to say to that.

"Well, I'm not a Catholic, Ray. My grandparents were stalwart atheists, and although my mother did take me to the Anglican church on occasion, it was so long ago. I don't remember much of it. Culturally, I...well I don't quite fit anywhere."

"I know, buddy. It don't matter to me."

"I appreciate that, Ray."

Ray quirked a little smile at him, encouraging him to finish saying what he was trying to say.

"What I'm saying is that I haven't found a method of...absolution...that works for me. The aboriginal peoples of Canada...don't...well, there is the sweat lodge, that experience can include an aspect of ritual purification. Of course it's literal purification as well. And it's used for other--"

"Wait." There was something, something Ray remembered that he almost had a hold of. "Ritual," he repeated, snapping his fingers. "Ritual purification, yeah. That's different from just getting clean like, like taking a shower."

"Yes, Ray. In fact, when one undertakes ritual purification in a number of traditions, one must already be scrupulously clean in a physical sense."

"Right. You take the shower first. Right. Yeah. Got it." He looked up at Fraser, and now he really was smiling. "I got an idea."

"Ray, I don't think there's anything--"

Ray pressed two fingers across Fraser's lips before he even realized he was going to do it. "Don't say it. Do not say it. That's the problem here. You been thinking too much all along."

Fraser looked like he was going to try to talk anyway, but then his lips went slack under Ray's fingers.

It took every ounce of self-control Ray had--and he'd been Stella Kowalski's husband; he had self-control like you wouldn't believe--not to push his fingertips past those incredible, perfect lips and into the heat of Fraser's mouth.

He pulled his hand away from Fraser's mouth reluctantly.

"Fraser, you got any spare clothes here by any chance? You keep any spares at the station?"

Fraser shook his head, looking almost helpless, and Christ, wasn't that a sight.

Ray thought hard. "Okay, okay, we'll figure something else out. We're about the same height. I know I'm like, yeah, skinny and everything, but some of my clothes are loose on me. Something I got here's gotta fit you."

"Ray, what are you talking about?" Fraser was looking at him like he wasn't entirely sure Ray wasn't losing his mind.

Ray wasn't entirely sure he wasn't, but he was going on his gut. "'Cause I don't think you ought to wear your uniform up there. Not good, especially if anybody saw us and complained..."

"Ray."

"Although there is that diplomatic immunity thing, that might actually help."

"Ray."

"And we could tell the cops it was just another weird Canadian custom, which, being from Michigan, they'd maybe even have some experience with weird Canadians, so maybe they'd just look the other way..."

"Ray,"

"But if we time it just right, if we go far enough down where we can avoid everybody..."

"Ray!"

Ray shook himself. "Sorry. Look. Here's the plan. We're gonna find a place to swim. Today. Tonight."

"In _Michigan__?"_

Oh. Yeah. It'd be a drive, and Ray'd have to maybe call Welsh and tell him he needed another day, but that was okay. It wasn't like Ray was gonna be able to concentrate on the usual crap down at the station, not with this issue hanging over his head like the big sword of that Greek guy.

"Yeah. Fraser, you and me are gonna go get abso-whatsis. Shriven. Not the Catholic way. Another way." He put his hand up to Fraser's face for a sec, rubbed his thumb over Fraser's smooth-shaven cheek, let him know this wasn't over, this thing between them. Then he stepped around him and went into the bedroom, yanked open the closet. Pulled down a sleeping bag, a blanket, a couple of towels. "These'll do."

"We're going camping?"

"Something like that. Only with more water."

"Ray, you don't swim."

Ray shrugged. "Not what this is about, Benton-buddy. Plus now I _can _swim, thanks to you. Bloom, close. Piece of cake."

"I don't understand."

"S'okay, you'll catch on. Just trust me."

"I do, Ray." Fraser didn't even hesitate.

Ray was all choked up, just like that. He had to swallow pretty hard before he could squeak out a word. "Yeah?"

"Yes. Implicitly."

Ray ducked his head down, trying to keep from grinning all over his face. "Okay. Come on, let's find you something of mine that fits you so you don't gotta make the drive in your uniform."

"May I ask how far into Michigan we're going?"

"Not far. Three-hour drive with a couple of stops. Maybe less." He scratched his neck. "Um. We might want to stay over. I'll call Welsh before we leave."

"Oh, dear. The Inspector will want me on duty--"

"Oh, no, you don't. And she won't. This was _trauma, _Fraser, and you know it. And you and me, we gotta deal with this right now. We gotta get past this now. No other choice except run away, Fraser."

Fraser looked at him like running away was maybe a decent option, so Ray gave him his best glare, the one that said _oh, no you don't, buddy, you are _not_ running out on me now, _and waited to see if Fraser would cave. Because that was everything, wasn't it? It wasn't about the sex at all--well, not much, anyway. It was about whether Fraser had learned anything on the _Henry Allen. _It was about whether Fraser would yield to Ray's judgment when it mattered.

It was about whether Fraser would even realize this was one of those times when it mattered.

After what seemed like an hour, but was probably less than half a minute, Fraser took a very deep breath and said, quietly, "All right, Ray."

Which that was greatness.

So Ray found some Chinos his mother had sent him that he'd shoved to the back of his closet because they were way too big for him, and he dug up some extra t-shirts, and a big button-down workshirt that looked a lot like a blue one of Fraser's.

He shoved the clothes into Fraser's arms and aimed him towards the bathroom with a little push. "Shower. Now."

"I did shower this morning, Ray," Fraser said.

"Not what this is about. This is the first step in the ritual-thingy. Just...trust me, Frase."

Fraser looked at him curiously for a moment, but then nodded and went into the bathroom without another word.

Greatness.

While Fraser was in the shower, Ray called Welsh, and the lieu sounded only too happy to give him another day off. He even tried to tell Ray to take the rest of the week, he'd put him down on sick leave, but Ray said to forget it, he'd be in on Thursday like usual.

Fraser came out of the shower with his hair wet and slicked back, still buttoning his shirt while Ray tried to pretend he wasn't watching. The pants just made it over Fraser's incredibly muscular, perfect ass, and the shirt fit perfectly--which Ray figured it would because it was a large and hung on Ray like on a scarecrow. Ray did better in a medium. Fraser, though, for a guy who didn't lift weights or do anything stupid like that, he was freakin' stacked.

When Fraser tucked the shirt into the pants, Ray had to look away. If he started thinking about Fraser's body, they were never gonna make it to Michigan.

And they had to try this. They had to do _something._

He handed Fraser the phone to call Thatcher, who had pretty much the same reaction Welsh did. Fraser still looked surprised about it, but he gave in easier this time, and he even asked her calmly to have Turnbull watch the wolf for him. He seemed kind of distracted the whole time, though. He was paying more attention to what Ray was doing than to whatever Thatcher was saying to him over the phone, and that was cool, Ray thought.

What Ray was doing was stripping his clothes off as fast as he could and getting his boot stuck in his jeans because he hadn't quite got it off first--his fault for paying more attention to Fraser putting his clothes on than to taking his own off. But eventually he got everything straightened out, and he got himself into the shower before Fraser could turn any redder, even though it was a total trip knowing that Fraser was blushing just from watching Ray undress.

Ray thought about it while he showered. It wasn't like Ray hadn't stripped in front of Fraser before, not even counting yesterday, but that was before this new thing between them, this _knowing_ that shifted everything around.

Everything was different now. And, yeah, Ray's body had got the memo, that was clear. Just washing his body seemed to wake up every inch of his skin, even though he tried to be real efficient about it. His cock tingled and filled, his balls moved in his hand, and his breath shortened up to the point where he was almost going to have to have Fraser come in and buddy-breathe him. Or something.

Then they really wouldn't ever make it to Michigan.

And if they didn't make it to Michigan to get shriven, Fraser was maybe never going to be able to crawl out from under this glacier of guilt and wrongness that was keeping him from being Ray's lover.

  
Ray wasn't going to stand for that, damn it. He wasn't giving up Fraser without one hell of a fight.

So he had to nix the buddy-breathing idea, at least for now. He nudged the water to a much cooler temperature and that cooled him down in every way, which was a shame, but was really, really smart. Because they had a drive ahead of them, even if it was only three hours with a pit stop or two.

Ray got out and toweled off and found his most broken-in jeans that were still decent, because there was nothing worse than driving in tight jeans, especially if he was going to have Fraser next to him looking like, well, like _that_\--all smooth skin and earnest blue eyes and broad shoulders--not to mention doing sexy stuff like...um, pretty much anything, including staring out the window and breathing might do it for Ray, especially since his skinny ass was still feeling the effects of having Fraser's thick cock shoved up it repeatedly.

Which, damn it, Ray did not need to think about Fraser's gorgeous cock when he was toweling dry his own and trying to convince it to stay calm enough to tuck into his jeans.

He distracted himself by trying to think of everything they needed to do before they left. Get the cooler from the cabinet over the fridge, put in a few bottles of water, wrap up the sandwiches they hadn't eaten and throw them in there, too, put some ice in to keep it all cool, stuff like that. He'd better grab some music tapes for the car, too.

When Ray was dressed and had all the stuff he wanted to take put together, he gave the turtle some extra food and water, and just before he turned off the lights and the a/c he called Frannie at her house to make sure she was okay.

"Of course I'm okay. Why?" She sounded honestly surprised.

Ray rolled his eyes, but she couldn't see that, which was good, and he bit back a sarcastic remark, because if she wanted to be in denial, it was her right. Instead he explained about how he was gonna take another day and he wouldn't be in till Thursday and Fraser wouldn't be in, either.

"Well, that's a given. He never comes in when you're not there," she said.

Ray knew that.

Fraser, standing near the door, shifted his weight from one foot to the other and fiddled with his Stetson like he didn't know what to do with his hands. That was not a good sign; the Mountie never did stuff like that. He could stand guard outside the Consulate for hours without fidgeting once.

Ray figured he better give Fraser something to do to take his mind off whatever was bothering him, so he gestured meaningfully at the a/c and the lights. Fraser looked confused for a second, but then he finally twigged and went around turning everything off while Ray hugged the phone to his ear.

"So, Frannie. Ma taking care of you?"

"Or I'm taking care of her. Maria's kids start school tomorrow and the place is in the usual upshout."

"You mean ‘uproar'?"

"Uproar, upshout, upshot--whatever. It's a madhouse. Books, pencils, little bitty colored erasers all over the place. It's like the supply closet at the station. Only messier."

"That's scary. Okay. Just wanted to make sure you weren't, you know, freaking out or nothing."

There was silence on the line for a moment, then Ray heard the tiniest sound: her breath hitching, really faint. The Frannie's voice came back stronger. "Men. Jeez. They get in your pants and they think that's the be-all and the end-all of the world."

"Hey! I don't think that, Frannie, of course I don't. I just wanna be sure if we leave town for a day and you don't have no one to talk to...you got my cell number, right?"

"I give your cell number, on average, to two people every day, Ray. I think I know it."

"Oh. Right, yeah."

"I'm okay, bro. It was just, you know...what it was. With more explosions. It's not like the uh, stuff we did..." she lowered her voice. "It's not like, ooh, the almighty male organ turned me into a pumpkin or anything."

"Male organ?" Ray repeated, trying not to laugh into the phone. "Pumpkin? You mean like in Cinderella?"

Fraser's face said that even he thought that was freaky, and if _Fraser_ thought something was freaky, it had to be really off the wall.

"Yeah. I'm not Cinderella, Ray, even if I sometimes feel like I got left at the ball. Maybe I don't even like, you know, balls."

Ray practically lost it then, but she corrected herself, spluttering a little: "Not that kind of balls! I mean dances, like with fancy ballgowns and a handsome prince. Maybe I figured out a long time ago there's no actual prince, or the prince is...you know, kind of..."

"Queer?" Ray supplied. Because why not call a spade a spade, right?

"Yeah. Especially in the sense of being bizarre-o. You know?"

"Yeah."

"Well, good. So get your brain out of your almighty...pants, and go do what you need to do." He heard her swallow kind of hard.

"I'll keep my cell phone charged," he said quietly.

"Okay," she said.

So they hung up, and Ray cracked his neck and looked at Fraser. "I need to get my brain out of my almighty pants," he reported.

Fraser cracked his neck, too. "I have often thought so, Ray." A little smile hovered around his mouth.

Ray smirked back at him, hefted the supplies, and led him out the door before he was tempted to think up a snappy comeback.

 

But once they got the stuff stowed and the car gassed up and onto the expressway, the lighter mood was gone, and Ray decided he'd better zone out to some music and just drive. There was no point in trying to hash anything out now before they did the shriving thing, because until they at least tried that, Fraser had one foot out the door.

  
So they didn't talk until they made a pit-stop somewhere on I-94 in Indiana, because Ray was finally hungry, and even then it was just chit-chat about nothing much. Fraser didn't quiz Ray about where they were going, and Ray didn't bring it up, because talking about it totally wasn't the point.

They sat at a picnic table at the rest stop and ate their sandwiches, finally, just chilling, watching people and seagulls, and Ray wondered if they should've brought the wolf along after all, because Dief would've loved this. But when he said it to Fraser, Fraser just said, "I'm enjoying just being with _you_, Ray."

That got Ray all choked up, so he knocked back the last of his bottle of water and tossed it in the trash, and they went back to the car and continued on to Michigan.

It was an okay drive, all highways for most of it, and then a drive through some cool lakeside towns. They got in to Saugatuck behind the rush hour traffic, but since it was still a week before Labor Day, it was still plenty light out, and Ray had no trouble following the signs to Oval Beach.

The road was long and narrow and bounded by green woods on both sides, but Fraser didn't even seem to see them even though he was looking right at them. Because if he was seeing them, Fraser would be telling Ray about the deer over there that startled and bolted farther into the brush, or the bird that darted in front of the car, narrowly missing the windshield, or how the tulip trees of the Michigan forests were making a comeback. But there was none of that. Fraser just sat staring out the window, not making a sound.

Not asking the questions that Ray could practically feel hovering in the air around him.

Ray finally took pity on him. "It's a great beach, Frase. I was here once, years ago, but I heard it hasn't changed that much. There's, uh...you know, stuff is _tolerated_ here that you can't really do in Chicago without risking arrest."

"I see," Fraser said.

Which Ray was pretty sure he didn't, but now was not the time to argue about it. Fraser would either go with Ray on this, or he wouldn't.

And, yeah, Fraser'd already said he would, but it was only a couple of weeks ago that they'd been talking about transferring to get away from each other, only a couple of weeks ago that Fraser was buddy-breathing him and then telling him real sincerely that what felt to Ray like an underwater kiss was just a standard rescue technique, and nothing between them had changed.

Turned out Fraser was wrong about that. Everything had changed.

They just didn't know it till yesterday.

 

It cost a few bucks to park the car, but the lot was huge and not crowded and, huh, oval. How dumb was that: the freaking beach was named after the parking lot, not the other way around.

They had a couple of options for getting to the section of the beach they were heading for: easy and hard. Ray thought about it for all of two seconds. He was with _Fraser_, for Chrissakes. The hard way it was. The hike would probably do them both good, anyway, get some oxygen into their lungs, clear out the stale air of cities and warehouses and explosions.

He shouldered his duffel and led the way around to the foot of the steepest dune hill. Mount Baldhead, the sign said--another stupid name, especially since most of "Baldy" was covered with trees, at least on the eastern side--and it probably wouldn't look like much of a mountain to Fraser, but Ray'd been here before and he knew the view was worth the climb.

They went up a really, really long flight of wooden stairs through thick green woods. Ray didn't mind the climb. He was strong, city-fit, so climbing all those stairs felt great after being cooped up in the car, even if carrying the duffel made him huff a little by the time he got to the top. Fraser bounded up the stairs like he had springs in his Mountie boots. No surprise. Fraser had the lungs of a racehorse; Ray figured he could probably climb a thousand steps without feeling it.

Ray sneaked a glance at Fraser. He wasn't even breathing hard, of course, but there were tiny beads of perspiration on his upper lip. Ray had to look away quick before he acted on the urge to back Fraser up against a tree and lick the droplets off him.

They reached the top of the hill and headed toward where the sunlight was filtering through the trees. The trees opened out onto the dune cliffs and there it was, Lake Michigan--same lake, different view, looking west instead of east. It was blue-green and beautiful in the late afternoon, its waves lapping up on a gorgeous strip of beach that looked as soft and sweet as light brown sugar.

The breeze coming off the lake was cool and fresh, and even though it was still warm enough, the air was going to cool rapidly once the sun was down, Ray could tell.

He glanced over again to see Fraser staring at the lake, looking faintly surprised. Fraser probably hadn't expected to see anything this beautiful down here in the States, Ray figured; Fraser probably though Canada had a lock on natural beauty. Ray hid his grin. He liked broadening Fraser's horizons.

If Ray had any say in it, he was gonna broaden Fraser's horizons all over the place.

They found a place where the dunes sloped down a little more gently towards the beach, and made their way down through brush and long grass and deep, shifting sands till they reached the long, pale stripe of shoreline. Their boots sank a couple of inches into the sugar-sand.

"It's...it's beautiful, Ray," Fraser said, the first thing he'd said in a while.

"Thought you'd like it." Ray pointed the way north, and they walked with the lake on their left, close to the water where the sand was damp and packed harder. In the distance, somebody was windsurfing. A few gulls, white with black-tipped wings, whistled and cawed overhead.

Ray wasn't in a hurry. It was after six pm by now, and the sun was an orange ball across the water, not too bright anymore through a haze of clouds that maybe meant rain tomorrow, but probably didn't mean rain tonight.

A couple dozen people still lingered on the beach, but Ray figured almost everybody but the diehard surf-and-sand gang would be gone within a couple of hours. Since it was around dinnertime on a weeknight, and not that sunny anyway, most of the young families had apparently packed it in already, and the college kids and the artists were probably heading home to get ready for a night on the town, or whatever. The wind was picking up, a little cool for late August.

The stragglers still on the beach included a fair number of women, so Ray figured he and Fraser hadn't gone far enough north yet. He hadn't been here in years, but word was that the northern end of the beach hadn't changed much.

A few people passed them, heading out, but no one paid them any attention, which was good. Ray kept up the pace, leading Fraser. His legs were getting tired, and he really wanted his boots off, but it wasn't time for that yet. All the layers had to come off together.

They finally found a good spot, past the point where Ray started seeing mostly guys, a few of them trying to catch the last good rays of the sun in the nude. Nobody else was around, but Ray and Fraser kept walking, and finally, just before the sign that marked off a private beach, they reached a spot where nobody else at all was in sight.

Ray figured the place would do. He tossed the duffel down and started taking off his boots and then his clothes.

Fraser cocked his head at Ray like he was observing a species of rare lake bird or something, and he looked like he was going to ask a question, but then he stopped and began pulling off his own clothes.

They stripped to the skin, Ray tossing his stuff in a pile and Fraser folding all of his things neatly, and Ray figured it was about time he gave Fraser some kind of explanation.

"So there's this thing. This ritual-purity thing I saw a buddy do once." He cleared his throat. "Jeffrey Wolf, a guy I went to the Academy with. Uh, Jewish guy. He was getting married and he did this traditional thing before the wedding. Him and a bunch of us guys who were in the wedding, we went down to the Oak Street beach in Chicago, and we went in the water.

"Normally when people do this thing, they use this place in town that's more like an indoor swimming pool, and I guess that's what people do in the winter. Anyway, this was summer, and Jeff wanted all us guys to do this with him, but, you know, some of us weren't Jewish and I guess maybe they would've frowned on that down at the, at that Orthodox place. I don't know, actually I don't think Jeff ever asked them, but he wanted to do this in the lake."

He glanced at Fraser, then at the lake, looking out over all that water, and even though he knew it didn't go on forever, and Milwaukee was out there just a little too far away to see, it sure seemed from here like the waters stretched to the end of the earth. He gazed at the horizon, where lake and sky met. It looked like if you could just swim far enough you could put your hands up and touch the sky. Maybe Fraser would say you'd be swimming in the sky.

He turned back to Fraser. "You're supposed to choose a place with ‘living water.' I liked that. Made me think the lake would take care of me, that it wouldn't drown me, especially not on Jeff's special day. I liked thinking about the lake that way. The lake they call Michigan."

He smiled a little, remembering the first time he went into Lake Michigan with Fraser, and Fraser smiled back. No flaming cars this time, thank God.

"Oak Street's still beautiful, but the uniforms patrol it now, looking to hassle anybody who strips down, and I could've probably, you know, asked somebody to look the other way, but..."

"But you wouldn't do that," Fraser said, like he knew. Like he thought Ray was too good and upright to ask another officer to ignore the law. Even a silly law.

"Well, not for this, I wouldn't. I don't think the shriving thing would work for you if we were, you know, committing a misdemeanor at the time."

Fraser cleared his throat meaningfully.

"What? What is it?"

"Are we committing a misdemeanor now, Ray?"

"Not if nobody sees us, Fraser. That's the beauty of skinny-dipping. It's one of the few infractions that ain't an infraction if nobody sees it." He gestured at the shoreline. "It's just you and me and the lake."

"Ah," Fraser said, and for once Ray knew what he meant by that.

"So I remembered how beautiful this place was," Ray said, "and I remembered that a couple of guys can walk down the street together in this town and not get called names, if you follow me." Ray shrugged. "See, this ritual-thing, it isn't just for weddings. It's for when you need to...to go in the water with the you that you want to leave behind, and come out...new."

Fraser's eyes were steady on Ray's. "It sounds...perfect."

Ray sure hoped so. "So. You want to do this thing with me?"

"Yes, Ray. I do."

Naked, they stood at the edge of the water. The wind was picking up; whitecaps burst open at the crest of each swell like mini-eruptions, like a great green beast splitting its skin, preparing to shed it.

Ray looked Fraser in the eye, determined to leave behind all pretenses, all barriers between them. There was going to be no more saying what was not meant and meaning what was not said.

"It starts here," Ray said. "This, Fraser, is the beginning. When we walk out of this water, we're clean. We get a do-over."

"We get a do-over," Fraser agreed.

Ray steeled himself and waded into the water up to his knees. Whoa--it was fucking _cold. _He should have expected that, but he hadn't given it any thought. It was so cold it hurt.

He figured Fraser would be okay with it, though. Fraser never complained about the cold. Must be that extra layer of subcur, subter--whatever fat that Fraser said he had a layer of, keeping him warm, because of growing up in the Frozen North.

Ray didn't have that, but he had his determination.

They were gonna go in with this...this _wrongness_ on them, and they were gonna come out without it. Washed clean.

He could hear Fraser wading in behind him, not shivering at all, of course.

Ray tilted his head to indicate they had to go out to where it was a little deeper, and he bloomed and closed a few times till he got to where the water came up to his armpits. "Here's good."

"We shouldn't stay in the water long at this temperature," Fraser said quietly.

"Yeah, I know."

"How do we do it?"

"Two full immersions. Long enough for the water to touch everywhere. You go in spread-eagled. Open your eyes. Spread your fingers and toes."

"And then?"

"Well, when Jeff did it, he came up and said a Hebrew blessing, but I don't know any Hebrew and I'm not Jewish anyway."

"Perhaps all we need is a sincere desire to be...cleansed."

"Yeah, I get that. Cleansed of the wrongness that happened to us, without losing any of the good stuff. Because there was good stuff. Even yesterday, there was good stuff."

"Yes, there was."

Ray knew it was impossible to see the blue of Fraser's eyes with the sun behind him, but they looked blue all the same. He figured he must be imagining it.

"Okay, so one of us goes under first and the other one watches to make sure we got totally immersed, every hair. And then the other one goes."

"After you, Ray," Fraser said.

"Okay. Okay." Ray took a deep breath--and plunged, knowing Fraser was watching from above. He spread his legs and arms, his fingers and toes. He opened his eyes. It was pretty dark under the surface, but the water was fresh and clean in his mouth, cold on the insides of his eyelids. Living water, everywhere. It wasn't anything like being trapped belowdecks on the _Henry Allen._

Before his breath ran out, Ray came up. He shook water out of his face and pushed his hair back. He grinned at Fraser. "That's one."

Fraser smiled back. "Beautiful, Ray."

Ray's grin got wider. "Okay, here goes. I am going down for the second time, and when I come up, after I come up, I am New Ray...pure and clean. I'm leaving it all here, Fraser. Including the pissing myself in the bank 'cause of Ellery, including my dad freezing me out when I became a cop, including Stella--everything about Stella. And even the scumbags yesterday that we put back behind bars. I'm leaving it all here. I forgive everybody. I'm done with all of it."

He swallowed hard and reached a hand out to Fraser's face, let his fingertips whisper over Fraser's strong jawline. "Even, uh. Hitting you. And making you hit me. I'm sorry for that, Fraser. I want that...absolved, too."

"Already forgiven, Ray."

"I know." Ray hesitated a moment. "So...you think God or whoever heard?"

"I think God heard, Ray."

So Ray took a big breath and went under again, spreading out like before. His body felt more relaxed this time, maybe weirdly relaxed considering the water still felt pretty chilly. He didn't care. This was the living water. In this water, smoke and soot and makeup and everything Ray didn't want on him washed away. He was leaving all the dead stuff here and coming out _alive._

He floated under the surface for what seemed like years. Maybe he'd grown some extra-capacity lungs like Fraser's. Finally he came up and brushed his hair back out of his face. "Wow."

"Wow, indeed." Fraser was watching him with this real quiet, solemn look on his face, the way you'd think a priest would look, a guy who really got into the praying and the meditation and stuff. Except since this was Jewish, maybe a rabbi. Rabbi Fraser, hah.

"This is where baptism came from, isn't it?" Fraser said softly, his voice just barely audible over the sounds of wind and moving water. The evening sun made gold glints in his eyes.

Ray shrugged, because what did he know? Anyway, it kind of didn't matter what this thing meant to anybody else.

"You ready?" he said. He was shoulder-deep in the lake, and it didn't feel cold anymore.

Fraser nodded, took a huge breath, and dove under smoothly as Ray watched. When the last hair on Fraser's head disappeared under the water, Ray didn't have to watch anymore, but of course he did. All he could see was a fuzzy pale shape under the surface; it didn't even look human. Which wasn't surprising, given that the clouds were stealing the last hour of sunlight, Ray had lake water in his eyes, and he didn't have his glasses on. But he imagined Fraser under there like some giant prehistoric amoeba, ready to walk on land for the first time. Or like the first man, recreating the human race all over again.

A shiver hit Ray unawares and suddenly he realized that he was about three minutes from turning blue if he didn't get out, even though the water felt freakishly warm to him now, like lukewarm bathwater. It was that thing, he figured, that thing where the air was colder than normal and the water felt warmer by comparison, but it would still leach all the heat out of you if you overstayed your welcome.

Damn it, Fraser was down there so long because he _could_ be, with his extra-capacity lungs and his warm layer of fat.

Ray tried hard to quit the shivering. Fraser needed to be in there till he felt absolved, so Ray would damn well stay in here all night if that was how long it took.

It didn't take all night. Fraser came up with this cool look on his face, even better than the solemn priest-rabbi look, and he had this smile in his eyes. He was looking at Ray like _Ray_ looked different, which Ray knew he probably just looked like a half-drowned rat, but he didn't care.

After a few more seconds, Fraser went under again. This time when he came up he burst out of the water like a dolphin, splashing Ray and shaking the water out of his hair, and grinning all over his face. "Ray" was the only thing he said.

Ray faced him, dancing back towards the shore a few steps so he could keep his footing. He spread his arms out. "You see me?"

"I see you, Ray."

"Good, because this is who I am, Fraser. This is who I am under everything. Without my gun and badge, without the attitude. No clothes, no makeup, nothing hiding anything. My hair's even gone all weird. This is me. Do you think, could you, could you want...me?"

Fraser took a big huge breath like a sob, and then his words came out in a rush: "God help me, I do. I want you, Ray."

"Why God help you?"

Fraser looked at him like that was the very last thing he ever expected Ray to say. Then his face just kind of relaxed all over in a way Ray'd never seen on him before, and he started laughing. "I suppose I should have said ‘God help _you,_' Ray."

Which he did have a point, Ray thought, what with the jumping off buildings and the flaming cars and the facing down armed gunmen and stuff. He laughed, too.

 

"All right," he said." He could go with this, even if he didn't quite know where it was going yet. "You got me. Now let's get out before I freeze my skinny ass off in here without even knowing it."

Ray scrambled out of the water so fast he almost fell, and then he was out, and the water was streaming off him. The air felt colder than the water. It had to be under seventy degrees by now, and it felt like it was freezing, with him all wet like this, but he was out. He stood naked and dripping. His teeth chattered.

He was new.

A couple of yards away, he heard Fraser wading out of the surf.

Ray turned. Fraser's hair was plastered to his head except on top where he'd pushed it back and it was all scrunched up, as messy as Ray'd ever seen it. His body was pale and sleek as a seal's, glistening from the water running off him. He was breathing little faster, his cheeks and his chest were flushed, his lips dark.

He was beautiful.

Ray's knees felt kind of loose.

Fraser came close to him, close enough for Ray to feel the heat coming off his skin.

Fraser leaned forward and kissed Ray.

Gasping, Ray wrapped his arms around Fraser's neck and kissed him back, hard. Who needed air, anyway? Overrated. Ray could bloom and close with the best of them, in the water or out.

Fraser's strong arms came around Ray's shoulders, Fraser broke the kiss off to take a breath, and then he kissed Ray some more, his tongue hot and agile in Ray's mouth.

They pressed close, wet naked body to wet naked body, and even though the air was really starting to chill Ray's skin, he was warm everywhere Fraser was touching him, and it was delicious in the way that only heat and ice side by side can be. His belly warmed and his dick surprised him by throbbing and starting to fill.

He had to force himself to pull back. "Oh, jeez, Frase." He tried to catch his breath, calm down.

"Oh, dear."

Ray looked down. Fraser was having a similar reaction.

"Whoa. Wow, I think...swimming in the buff is one thing, but I'm pretty sure getting too, um, up close and personal on the beach is verging into the misdemeanor lewd-and-lascivious territory."

"Not if no one sees us," Fraser said, with a little grin that made Ray laugh all over again. "But you're right. This is after all a public beach, and someone could come along at any moment."

"Okay, then. Okay." Drying off would be smart, for openers. Ray crouched down to dig in his duffel bag. He pulled out the towels, handing one to Fraser and wrapping the other around his own waist as he stood up.

"I brought along the sleeping bag, because we could...I thought we could sleep up there in the dunes if we want. Plenty of privacy up there. You know, for two guys with one sleeping bag."

"I see." Fraser cleared his throat.

"That is, if you wanted...um, you know, if you didn't mind. I wasn't sure..."

Fraser's hand touched Ray's arm, gently, warmly. "It's fine, Ray. I trust you. Will the car be left undisturbed in the lot?"

"Yeah, but I didn't think about dinner. You're probably hungry, huh?"

"I'm all right at the moment. I'm more concerned about you. You haven't eaten much in two days, and after being chilled in the water, you're bound to get your appetite back."

Fraser had a point. Ray was already starting to feel twinges. He just hadn't noticed because Fraser kissing him had driven away all other hungers.

Ray looked up toward the dunes, toward the tree line where the shadows were deep and comforting. And probably cold. He felt half-frozen already. His stomach growled.

"Maybe we should camp out another time," he said. "Find a bed and breakfast for tonight--there's dozens of them in town and it's a Tuesday night, there's gotta be a vacancy somewhere."

"Agreed."

Ray put his hand up to Fraser's face, to his temple, where his hair was starting to dry a little curly. He ruffled it with his fingertips. "At least I got you to kiss me after all, huh?"

"Ray..."

"You feel...shriven, Fraser?"

"I..." Fraser's breathing seemed to shorten up. "I'm not sure, Ray. I don't really have anything to compare it to. I've never felt absolved before."

Ray got that, and he didn't know whether anybody could help Fraser with that one, but he sure as hell was going to try.

"All right," Ray said. "All right, so we go into town, we find a place to stay, we can...look, you want to get separate rooms, it's fine. It's okay. The money's not a problem: they pay me pretty good to clean up Vecchio's messes, and I don't spend much..."

"Ray."

"Yeah?"

"One room is fine, Ray. And I can pay for it; my expenses are ridiculously few. I don't even pay rent."

No rent meant Fraser had an easier time giving handouts to every hard-luck case that stumbled past him on the street, Ray thought, but if the guy said he could deal, he could deal, right?

"Fine, we'll split it." It was a little weird, having this conversation like usual. They alternately picked up the tab for lunches and dinners and whatnot that partners had to do together, and it was no big deal, but Ray suddenly realized the conversation was different. Totally new.

Now he was discussing finances with his boyfriend.

He smacked himself in the head to clear it. A few drops of water ran hot out of his ear.

They dried off and pulled their clothes on and hiked back to the car, and by the time they got there Ray's stomach was really protesting being empty.

So they drove the short distance into town and found a little B&amp;B that was glad to have an empty room filled at the last minute on a Tuesday night, and then they found a restaurant and ate something that Ray hardly noticed or tasted, because the only thing he really saw was Fraser.

Fraser, sitting across a table from him like he had so many times before, but looking somehow different.

New, maybe.

What they'd asked for.

After their dinner it was fully dark outside. Streetlights were lit, nightclubs were hopping, and the center of the little town was dark and bright and beautiful. There were voices and laughter and even a street performer down the far end of the street, singing. Outside of the automatic cop-glance up and down the street to check for any potential security problems, Ray ignored pretty much all of it except for one scene: two guys across the street from them, strolling, looking at the shop windows, hand in hand. One of the guys was blond and the other dark--that could be him and Fraser, he thought.

Here. Not in Chicago, any time soon. But here and now...

He looked at Fraser.

Fraser looked back steadily, his eyes bright. His face wasn't relaxed exactly, but his jaw wasn't set like concrete, either.

Ray put out his hand, palm up.

Fraser took it, lacing his fingers through Ray's.

"Frase--" Ray's voice came out like a frog croaking.

"Yes, Ray?"

"You want to...to go back to the room? We could...I thought we could..."

"See what comes up?"

Ray staggered back in feigned shock, but he couldn't help chuckling a little. "If I didn't know you better, I'd think that was a lascivious joke, there, Fraser."

"Ah. Well, then, it's a good thing you know me better," Fraser said with a totally straight face but twinkling eyes. He held onto Ray's hand.

Ray held on, too. "I'm serious, though. You game to try this? With me? I mean...test the waters, find out whether the shriving thing worked?" He was half-walking, half-dancing with nerves; it was a miracle Fraser even managed to hang on to his hand.

But it was total greatness that Fraser was willing to hold his hand in public.

"I'm game," Fraser said.

Ray's blood surged southward.

 

But when they were back in their room, stripped and ready for bed, Ray looked at the one bed, and he kind of froze up.

They'd slept next to each other as friends last night. Tonight was the first time they were going to get into a bed together as lovers. Potential lovers, anyway. If they could make it work.

He figured they had one chance to get it right. This was their do-over, this was their chance to make it happen the way it should have. If they screwed this up, maybe it wouldn't ever feel right to Fraser, and then they might lose everything. Maybe even lose the partnership they'd almost died to preserve just a couple of weeks ago.

Ray really, really hoped he wouldn't screw anything up.

Actually, considering that his heart was in his throat, and his dick was apparently asleep, it was beginning to look like Ray wasn't going to be able to screw anything at all tonight.

He looked at Fraser, standing near the night table on the other side of the bed. Fraser looked as scared as Ray felt.

Well, okay, Ray thought. They'd jump in together, like always. The only things missing were the bad guys shooting at them, the large body of water, and the rubber ducks. Ray could do without all of those. Especially the rubber ducks.

"So, Frase," he said. "This afternoon you said that wasn't the way it was supposed to happen, you and me. So how was it supposed to happen? Because I want to get it right."

He knew he was fidgeting, he didn't seem to be able to keep still. That was nothing new, but right now he was even more twitchy than usual. "See, I gotta know what the perfect thing is for you; I need to know what you want, 'cause if I don't know what that is, maybe I won't figure it out on my own, and it'll be like...well, it won't be what you were looking for. And I really, really want it to be."

Fraser came around the bed right up to Ray, right in his personal space. "I'm sorry, Ray, I never meant to suggest that I was looking for some mythical ideal of perfection."

"Good," Ray said with a little smile. "Because what you got is me. Not perfect by the longest of the long shots."

"Oh, Ray. You don't see yourself as I see you. You're more than I could ever have asked for."

"Huh. Really?"

"Really." And for what it was worth, Fraser looked sure. "You see, as I told you, my romantic experience is very limited. I understand friendship, and it's important to me. I consider myself fortunate beyond the telling to have yours, Ray." He paused, licking over his bottom lip quickly, like this was hard to say.

"I wouldn't want to do anything to threaten that priceless gift. Do you understand?"

"Yeah. Yeah, Frase, me neither."

"The problem was that I didn't know exactly what might threaten it, but I was fairly sure that adding a, er, a romantic component would be extremely risky. You see, in all of my adult life before I first came to Chicago--"

"On the trail of your father's killers--"

"Yes." Fraser looked away, worrying his eyebrow with his thumb. "Until I came to Chicago, I'd never experienced any relationship with someone who felt personal loyalty to me. I'd known that phenomenon briefly as a child...with my friend Innusiq, Mark, a few others, and my mother, of course. But as an adult I'd never had a friend who fit that description, not even Mark, until I met Ray Vecchio."

Ray swallowed hard. "Jeez. Frase." Ray suddenly knew what people meant by saying your heart goes out to someone. He felt like his was trying to thump itself right out of his chest.

"Ray is of course a platonic friend, and I..." He looked up. "In my adult life, I still haven't seen a good example of the personal loyalty of friendship existing in a romantic relationship. Everyone I know who's been married is either widowed or divorced.

"So I never dared hope that I would have a partner in both senses."

"Yeah, I get that. Sorry."

"Don't be. You're the exception, Ray. You've been teaching me about true partnership from the day I met you.

"Don't you remember the first conversation we ever had? It consisted of my trying to find out who you were and why you were impersonating Ray Vecchio, and your describing to me the concept of what you call the ‘duet,' and explaining how, without me, you felt like half of a team."

"Which made no sense at all, of course, as we had never met before, but you were so convincing that you had me doubting my sanity within moments of our meeting."

Ray remembered, of course. There wasn't one detail of that day that wasn't seared into his memory, and that had less to do with the fact that he'd come close to actually being seared and more to do with the fact that that was the day he met Benton Fraser. And fell for him harder than a ton crate of rubber ducks sliding off a pier.

"I was hurting," Ray said. "I was walking around feeling like half a person anyway, because of the divorce, and then there I was in this new station, trying to be some guy I didn't even look like and having to impress his Canadian partner, who I knew I couldn't possibly impress in the first place, on account of not being Vecchio. And on account of being me, scruffy and skinny and impatient and everything."

Fraser put his hand on Ray's shoulder, warm and really gentle like he was afraid Ray would bolt or something. "You've no idea, then?"

"About what?"

"How much you did impress me. We'd hardly spent three minutes together before we found ourselves entangled in a potentially deadly situation with a serial arsonist. Through all of it, you treated me as a true partner, at grave risk to your own life, I might add. And then you jumped in front of a bullet meant for me."

Ray had to look away. It always made him feel a little pink when anyone brought up stuff like that. What some people called bravery Ray called not thinking ahead. Still, when your partner needed you, you did what you had to. "Part of the job, Fraser, you know that."

"Intellectually, yes, I know that. But my heart...my heart read the situation a bit differently."

And that was Fraser's way of saying he knew Ray loved him. Ray wanted to melt. He closed the last bit of the gap between them and put his arms around Fraser. Wow. Fraser was all warm, smooth skin over firm muscle, a real delight to just touch. Ray spread his fingers to cover a greater surface area.

"If you're wondering whether I would've jumped in front of the bullet for somebody else, I don't know," he said, lowering his voice a little because his mouth was close to Fraser's ear. "I do what I do, I don't always think about it ahead of time."

"It's another thing I admire about you," Fraser said, his lips grazing Ray's ear.

"You do?" That kind of surprised Ray. Hadn't they been quarreling over Ray's tendency to go on instinct just a couple of weeks ago, and hadn't Ray needed to punch Fraser and even threaten a transfer to bring him around?

Fraser's arms were coming around Ray, holding him tight. "I do. It rankled because I didn't understand it, but even then I did recognize that you're so often right_. _I don't know how you do it."

Ray smiled and rubbed his cheek against Fraser's. He did it real carefully, because his stubble was getting out of control, and he'd bring Fraser back to Chicago with beard burn if he didn't watch out. Although, since Fraser was still bruised from the beating by Thorwald's goons, maybe nobody would notice.

"I don't know, either," he said. "But since intuition's all I got, it's what I got to use."

"It's not all you've got by far," Fraser said, but his breathing had speeded up, and he sounded a little distracted. His hands came around to cup Ray's ass.

Which that made Ray jump a little and kiss Fraser's ear.

And that, in turn, made Fraser catch his breath and pull Ray against him, and wow, Ray was getting turned on again, his whole body was waking up all over again, every inch of skin suddenly hypersensitive and wanting Fraser's touch.

Fraser rubbed himself against Ray like a great big cat, his skin soft and delicious on Ray's, and Ray felt Fraser's cock poking him in the belly and sliding up hot and firm alongside Ray's cock.

"Wow," Ray breathed, because that was some feeling, Fraser moving against him like this. He pulled back just enough to look Fraser in the eye.

"So you're okay with this, huh?" Ray smiled, because it was obvious Fraser was okay with at least this much.

"Mm-hm." Fraser rubbed himself against Ray again, slow and sensuous. "In fact, I seem to be quite a bit more than ‘okay' with it."

"Because I know this isn't what you expected out of life. Being straight and all, you know, you...probably expected a woman. And even if you're not having the two point six Canadian kids, you probably still thought that when you got in bed with someone it would be a woman. And I'm not a woman, I'm a guy, and now you're telling me I'm the first partner who's both loyal to you _and_ wants to get you in bed--it's gotta be weird for you, Fraser. It's got to be queer, and I mean that in both senses."

"Ray. I thought we were past that."

Ray pulled back all the way, his skin still tingling from everywhere he'd been touching Fraser.

"Yeah, well, I got...qualms, I got some qualms, here. Look, a lot of guys can do it with another guy. But this, the relationship thing, it's all new to you. Partnership, loyalty, and love in the same place--you never had it before, so how do you know this is it, that this is enough for you?

"Besides that, you said you had to re-evalu-whatsis your sexuality, and that usually takes time and thinking about it, and more time, and...trying it out, maybe, and...and you're a thinker, Fraser, you think stuff through. It's not like you to jump into something huge, to change your whole direction in less than twenty-four hours."

"Well, I did learn recently that logic doesn't provide all the answers."

"No, it doesn't, and neither does instinct. But I just want to make sure you know what you're getting into, okay? Because you know me, you know how I am. Once I get stuck on somebody, you can't pry me loose with a crowbar.

"I don't know if I would've made it without you, Fraser. My life was pretty much down the tubes before I took the Vecchio gig, and you saw me that day, the day the car went in the lake. I was nuts, I was almost more of a freak than you, and that's saying something, Fraser, that is saying something."

"Oh, Ray."

"See, I don't know if I could go through it a second time, getting stuck on someone and then having them divorce me--"

"Well, we can't get divorced," Fraser said, "seeing as we can't marry." This time his smile looked a little bit sad.

"Just be sure, Fraser. Be sure this is what you really want. I want to be what you want. But if I'm not, or if you're not sure, tell me now. Tell me now before..." He stopped and smacked himself hard in the forehead. "Damn. I think it's already too late. I think I'm already stuck on you, Fraser. And this is a problem. It's a problem because you don't know for sure that you're really going to accept this 180-degree change in the way people see you. Maybe in the way you see yourself."

Fraser put his hands on Ray's shoulders. "The only way to know is to be brave enough to try, Ray. You've taught me a lot about bravery since I've known you, and if I've learned anything about it, I've learned that where there is no risk, there is no bravery. If I already knew how this was going to turn out, there would be no need for courage. I have to take this risk."

"Shit, Fraser, you risk yourself on an hourly basis, some days."

Fraser shook his head. "You're speaking of physical risk. I come from a place where physical risk is an expected part of everyday life. Here, a slip on the ice can mean a visit to the emergency room. In the North, a slip on the ice can mean disaster, your death and the deaths of your companions. We don't treat the issue lightly, but perhaps we do see it rather matter-of-factly.

"That isn't the risk I was speaking of, Ray. I meant the risk of my heart." He stopped, his tongue coming out real quick, licking over his bottom lip, and disappearing again.

Ray swallowed real hard, because he understood that. Once shot, twice gun-shy. He knew that: hell, Stella had point-blank aim. "Okay, okay," he said. "So here's my other qualm. I'm not sure if you understand that the world's probably not ready for a big gay hero in a red suit. People might not look at you the way they did. They been seeing, I don't know, the Canadian Superman or something. And they're not gonna see that when they look at you any more."

He wrapped his arms around himself because he was starting to shake, and not from cold. "A couple of weeks ago, we had that whole big thing on the top of the warehouse. We had the FBI's most wanted firing at us and the jumping in the lake from like ten stories up. We had that because you wanted to be Superman, and have your Sam Browne belt thing be a cape, and go after the bad guys without backup because of your freaky ability to leap tall buildings in a single bound.

"And, see, you're not going to be that any more when you're gay, Fraser. The Gay Superman thing is just not going to play in Peoria, or even in Chicago. People might give you looks, they might whisper, they might not respect that red jacket the way they should.

"And when you get tired of all that disrespect..." He stopped, coughed; something was bothering his throat. "You're gonna turn around and notice that what you got to show for it is a boyfriend who's a skinny, scruffy, hotheaded detective with surprised hair and a special talent for pissing people off. That ain't gonna improve your image."

He couldn't meet Fraser's eyes. "I'm afraid you're gonna wake up and realize that, one of these days. Because I've been the one jerking off thinking about you at night, Fraser. But you have only been thinking about me this way for, what is it, not even twenty-four hours yet?

"So I gotta know that you've thought this through. Because you could have anybody. There's got to be like a million choices out there for a guy like you, and you haven't really explored them at all. You could have a supermodel, probably. You could have a hockey star.

"Hell, you could have a genius, uh, biochemist or something."

"If I did I would be lonely."

Ray's head snapped up. "What? Why?"

"Because I wouldn't have you." Fraser moved closer to him, getting in his personal space again. "Ray, you're the one I want. I don't imagine that the road ahead will be completely smooth, but I've never traveled an easy road, and if the veneer of police authority or even respectability threatens to keep me from you, I'll renounce it. I told you, I never expected to be given the gift of a true partner in life. I've always had to walk my road alone.

"Now you're here, and you're my partner and my friend and my lover, and Ray...you brought me out of the water absolved,washed clean. I don't need the imageof anything, least of all some kind of mythical invulnerability, when I can have reality. When reality includes loving you."

Fraser's eyes were so blue, so incredibly blue. So perfectly steady on Ray's. "I love you, Ray, and I want to make love with you."

"Yeah?" Ray was afraid to believe it. He'd come all this way, but he was scared in a way he hadn't been under the threat of guns and explosions and bad guys.

"Yeah." Fraser squeezed Ray's shoulders, his fingers massaging the tightness there. "Ray, it wasn't your body that made me fall in love with you. It was _you."_

"Problem is you got to take the whole package," Ray said hesitantly. "Me, my body--kind of attached, here."

That didn't even slow Fraser down. He kept talking with this patient, determined sound in his voice: "Certainly I fell in love with your mind and your spirit, but that doesn't mean I don't love your body as well. Your body is part of you--you're refreshingly physical, you're strong, you're agile...you have a beautiful body, Ray."

And God, he could almost make Ray believe that. Ray wanted to believe it.

Fraser moved one hand down to Ray's chest and spread his fingers over Ray's left pec, caressingly.

Ray had to breathe for a minute before he could speak. "Sorry, Frase. I don't mean to doubt you. It's just I'm kind of used to people changing their minds. It's been known to happen, the not-wanting-Ray-anymore thing."

"I'm not Stella, Ray. I don't know her reasons for wanting to end your marriage, but obviously she had them, and I'm thankful. Of course I'm sorry for your pain, and I'm sorry she's led you on and then hurt you again, but if you and she hadn't divorced, I wouldn't have this opportunity, because you're faithful, Ray."

"You know that about me?"

Fraser cracked a smile. "Ray, anyone who's been within twenty paces of you when Stella is nearby knows that."

Ray grinned, too. "Kinda obvious, huh?"

"What I rejoice to say is that anyone who's come within twenty paces of you when _I_ am with you also knows it."

Ray couldn't swallow around the big lump that was suddenly in his throat. "You noticed that."

"I noticed."

"God, you...you make me crazy, Fraser. You make me goddamn freakin' nuts. But you gotta know...I'd be loyal like that even if I didn't want...you know, a relationship. You realize that, right?"

"Of course I realize it. It's another item in the list of things I love about you."

"You got a _list?"_

Fraser nodded. "I find something new to add to it nearly every day."

"How about today?"

"Today, Ray, as yesterday, I've had to add a whole new page."

"Jeez." Ray was blushing, and what was that? He never blushed.

"There are still..." Fraser glanced over at the night table, where there was a little alarm clock. "There are still two hours and seven minutes left of today. I imagine I'll be adding more to the list in that time."

"You got some imagination there, Frase," Ray said, but he put his hand on Fraser's chest, over his heart, mirroring the grip Fraser had on him. He slid his hand down Fraser's chest to his belly, enjoying the fine texture of Fraser's skin.

Fraser moved his hand on Ray's chest, too, more or less copying Ray's actions. Fraser was following Ray's lead, without Ray even having to ask him to--how great was that? Ray decided to try something bolder. He braced himself with his left hand on Fraser's hip and slid his right hand down to take hold of Fraser's cock.

Fraser tensed and shivered, and his eyes closed for a second. "Oh. Ray."

Ray wasn't going to let go unless Fraser asked him to. "Problem?"

"Not in the least." Fraser opened his eyes and looked steadily into Ray's. "Your hand is...your hand on me is...er, could I...?"

"What?"

"Could I kiss you, Ray?"

"Oh, yeah." Ray's voice had gone all gravelly, but he got the words out, one second before Fraser's lips descended on his, warm and firm and wonderful. A second after that, Fraser's tongue was prying his mouth open gently but insistently, and Fraser's tongue was in his mouth, wet and strong and intimate.

It had to be the opposite of buddy-breathing, because it sure as hell took Ray's breath away.

Fraser's cock was smooth and hot in his palm. Ray stroked it firmly but not too tightly, trying to find the rhythm Fraser liked best. He wasn't going to try to remember how it had been yesterday. He wasn't going to think about yesterday at all; yesterday was washed off them. So he had to start fresh. They were getting the chance to learn each other's bodies all over again.

Fraser let out a sound like a whimper and broke off the kiss. "Oh, God. Ray." His breathing speeded up and got raspy in Ray's ears.

Ray stroked Fraser some more, and Fraser's legs actually started buckling.

So Ray tilted his head toward the bed and gave Fraser a little nudge in that direction, but he didn't let go of Fraser's cock till Fraser put his hand on Ray's and actually lifted it off him. Fraser didn't let go Ray's hand. He clasped it tightly and drew Ray down onto the bed with him, and when they'd pushed down the covers one-handed and settled together against one of the pillows, Fraser lifted Ray's hand to his mouth, his eyes on Ray's the whole time, and kissed it all over, each finger, his palm, the back of his hand, his thumb with its big knobby knuckles. Everywhere.

Ray almost lost it right then. His cock sprang up so hard it smacked him in the belly.

"I love your hands, Ray." Fraser released Ray's right hand, reached for his left, and gave it the same treatment. "I've been fortunate. They're a part of you I've often had the privilege to touch."

So maybe Fraser had been thinking about Ray after all, just maybe not in the same lust-crazed way in which Ray'd been thinking about Fraser. "You really get warm for my scrawny form, huh?" It kind of boggled Ray's mind, that a guy as downright stunning as Fraser would get this hot over _Ray_, but Ray was done questioning it, and he sure as hell wasn't complaining.

"Oh, yes." Fraser smiled, murmuring, "Though in fact it is not ‘scrawny' but lean, athletic, and, as I said, beautiful."

Warmth crept up Ray's face. "Aw, Frase."

Fraser released Ray's hand and slid down on the bed before Ray could even react. He leaned over Ray's groin and nuzzled it, rubbing his face against Ray's belly and his pubic hair. He looked up. He was still smiling, but there was a vulnerable look in his eyes, an uncertain look. It tugged at Ray's heart.

"Mind you, I've no experience at this, but I'd like to try."

"Anything," Ray managed to say, and he really had no idea how he managed to say an understandable word.

Fraser leaned back down and swiped his tongue over Ray's cock, and it was Ray's turn to moan and whimper. He tried to hold his legs still so he wouldn't hurt Fraser.

And so that Fraser wouldn't stop.

Fraser didn't. He licked Ray's cock all over, experimenting, while Ray tried to hold onto his sanity and remember how to breathe, because Fraser's tongue on him was so deliriously good. Then Fraser took the first few inches into his mouth, and Ray almost lost it at the sight of that pure, perfect mouth stretched around him.

Fraser's hair was going every which way and kind of curling up at the edges when it got there. He looked like a slightly tarnished angel, with that skin like cream and his lips all rosy, just a little bit lighter in color than Ray's cock. And right when Ray couldn't take another second without thrusting slightly, Fraser pushed his mouth down a bit farther on Ray and began to suck.

Ray thrashed, barely managing not to dislodge Fraser. He wasn't going to last long at this rate. He slipped his fingers into Fraser's hair, careful not to press hard, and stroked. What a trip to see, to feel Fraser doing this for him. Fraser's mouth was amazing; Ray's cock felt swollen, slick, huge, and so damn good. He felt himself leaking all over Fraser's warm tongue.

And then Fraser worked a hand up under Ray's ass and just...just caressed him there, skimming over the crack, not even getting close to where he'd been buried in Ray the day before, but just that one little touch brought the feeling back, and Ray imagined he could still feel Fraser inside him.

Of course the lake couldn't take that away, not in one day, ritual or not. But that was okay, because Fraser inside him was one of the good things, and Ray didn't have any need to forget that. In fact, he sincerely hoped he got to enjoy that feeling a lot. If Ray got his way, he'd walk around all the time with the just-fucked-by-Fraser feeling. And maybe the just-fucked-Fraser-back feeling, too. It didn't really matter, because, hey, it was all good.

Fraser wrapped his free hand around the shaft of Ray's cock and stroked it while he sucked, and just when Ray thought he couldn't take any more, Fraser looked up at Ray wide-eyed, with his eyes so clear and blue and open...and Ray saw that he was happy. Fraser was making love to Ray and he was happy; it was plain as a Chicago sunrise over Lake Michigan. He was _happy_ loving Ray.

This was gonna work.

Right then Ray lost it. He went over the edge yelling Fraser's name, and he might have said a couple of other things which he didn't even know what he said, he was too busy spilling over with brightness and pleasure and heat...and joy.

He heard Fraser trying to swallow him, and then coughing and spluttering and pulling off, and Ray'd have felt bad about it if Fraser had looked any way other than proud and thrilled to have made Ray come like that, and if Fraser'd been doing anything other than laughing a little and wiping his mouth, and licking more of Ray's come off his hand.

Ray hooked his hands under Fraser's arms and pulled him up as gently as he could manage, considering he was trying to crawl inside him or something.

He pulled Fraser up to his mouth and kissed the hell out of him.

Fraser was hard and hot and slick against Ray and just as eager to be kissed as Ray was to kiss him, so they squirmed together giving each other messy, Ray-flavored kisses until Ray came up for air. He gasped, "Let me...what do you want, Fraser? What would feel good? You want I should..."

"Your hands, Ray. Your beautiful hands. Touch me." And he angled his hips and practically shoved his weeping cock into Ray's hand.

Ray got both hands on him, one circling Fraser's cock and the other cradling his balls, which moved and tightened in his hand just like they had the day before, when Ray imagined they recognized him. He sure hadn't touched Fraser's balls before that, but, hell, he knew better than anybody that bodies follow hearts, not the other way around, and if he'd had a hand free he'd have slapped his own forehead, because how could he have discounted this evidence? First thing they teach you in detective school--never discount _any _evidence till you're sure.

Fraser thrust against Ray, and Ray braced himself firmly on the bed, loving the feeling of Fraser's mostly smooth body rubbing his scruffier one everywhere. He kept his fingers wrapped around Fraser, and he dug his heels into the mattress for traction as Fraser leaned in to kiss him some more. Fraser's tongue plunged inside Ray's mouth, and Ray felt like he was coming all over again, even though that was impossible.

But, God, with Fraser lots of stuff you thought was impossible turned out to be weirdly possible, so Ray figured he'd better start taking vitamins.

Fraser must've taken his already, because Fraser was pounding into Ray's hands like a guy who _didn't_ have bruises and scrapes in a dozen places. And Fraser was breaking the kiss off to breathe and he was gasping in Ray's ear how much he loved him, and he was dripping sweat on Ray's face, salty and cool and so good that Ray leaned up to lick it off before he thought about it.

"Oh," Fraser whispered, and froze. "Oh, my...oh _Ray_..." Slick, hot fluid jetted out between Ray's fingers and onto Ray's belly. Fraser slumped on him, exhausted, and Ray finally, gently let go of his cock.

"Ray," Fraser breathed. It was apparently the only thing he could say. Which, how great was that? Ray kissed Fraser's temple and rolled him over and snagged the edge of the sheet to pull it up over them.

Just before he followed Fraser down into sleep, Ray tilted his head to check. Yeah, Fraser still looked like that angel, just a little more...debauched. It was a good look on him.

 

"So, the boyfriend thing," Ray said when they'd awakened in the soft light of early morning and lain there a while looking at the ceiling, with its swirls of bright-white, sanded paint. Fraser was tracing lazy circles on Ray's shoulder, tickling the hell out of him, but Ray didn't care, because that was _Fraser's hand on him_ and he'd ached for Fraser's hand on him so long that he would have let Fraser do it if it _burned.._

"It's kind of a juvenile term, isn't it?" Ray'd never heard Fraser's voice so relaxed.

"Fraser, you're the word expert. You come up with a better word for it, I'll go with it. Lover, mate, significant other, I don't really care. Just don't call me late for bedtime." He grinned.

"All right."

"My point is, I'm stuck on you, Fraser. I am stuck on you like waterproof mascara on eyelashes, which thank God Frannie didn't put any of that on me the other day, because I wouldn't have any eyelashes left, I'd have pulled them all out taking it off."

"It's very unsanitary to use anyone else's mascara, Ray. The possibility of serious eye infection is far too--"

Ray pressed a finger over Fraser's lips. Fraser just smiled, and kissed it.

So Ray laughed. He leaned up and over Fraser, doing a push-up over him, supporting himself on his arms so that Fraser's sore ribs wouldn't have to take his weight.

"You call me whatever you want. We gotta talk about who it's okay to tell and so on...'cause you know that for cops these things can have, like, reper--repro--"

"Repercussions?"

"Yeah. So, look, I figure we can talk about the boyfriend thing in the car later. Meanwhile, we got the whole day here. This is a really pretty town; they got an artist's colony here and everything. We can go swimming if you want, ride on the chain ferry, lots of options. And the best thing is, lots of boyfriends in this town. And girlfriends. We wouldn't be anybody special, walking down the street hand in hand. You can even kiss me in public if you want."

Fraser's smile was more stunning than the view from Mount Baldy.

"I figure if we leave by around five that'll give us plenty of time to get back and still get some sleep before work tomorrow." Ray chuckled. "That is, if you plan on letting me get any sleep."

"Perhaps an hour or two," Fraser said, still grinning in a very un-Mountie-like, and definitely un-superhero-like, fashion.

"Okay. Whatever, I'm good with it. Long as I got you, Fraser."

"You do have me, Ray." Fraser darted up to kiss him, quickly.

"Just, um. I gotta set some parameters."

"All right," Fraser said patiently.

"Okay. Good. Because." Ray sighed, loudly, so Fraser would know he was dead-serious. "I've told you before, I'm no prude."

"I can attest to that, Ray," Fraser said, running his hand over Ray's ass in a very distracting manner.

"I'll try anything, you know. Within reason. However. I will not wear any women's clothing."

"Understood."

"No fucking thongs."

"Right." Fraser looked like he only half-understood what Ray was talking about, which of course Fraser knew what a thong was, but he also looked like he didn't quite get why it was so important.

"And another thing," Ray said, balancing on one arm so he could stroke Fraser's clean, handsome, slightly banged-up face--and, wow, the slight banged-up-ness made Fraser look more manly if that was even possible.

"No makeup whatsofuckingever."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, of course not. You don't need makeup, Ray. You're a natural beauty."

Ray didn't think it was sportsmanlike to smack a guy who already had a bruised face, so he tickled Fraser within an inch of his life instead.

Hey, whatever worked. Ray was good with it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> **Explanation (sort of)**: During the 2006 ds_flashfiction Badfic Challenge, Kalena mentioned that she had this Crack!fic WIP that she wasn't ever going to finish. I begged to read it, and she graciously sent it to me. I loved it so much that I tried (in vain) to talk her into finishing it. Instead, Kalena handed it over and told me to have my wicked way with it. The idea, the basic plot, and the villains are hers, and most of her original 4,700-word WIP is still in the story. Since she gave me absolute carte blanche, however, the responsibility for any errors is certainly mine.  
> Although the original piece certainly had Crack!fic elements, some of which have survived into the final draft, it was also angsty and real, and that was the element that really interested me. I am apparently Crack!fic challenged; I take everything too seriously and am no fun. :) So this is written seriously.
> 
> **Acknowledgments**: Thanks to Kalena for her trust and encouragement and a cracktastic idea that kept me entertained all year. I wrote a lot of other stuff while this one was in progress, and this was always my fun project to come back to.  
> Heartfelt gratitude to Aukestrel and to Nos4a2no9 for multiple beta-reads during the project. Their contributions were both insightful and encouraging, their help invaluable.  
> Every writer should have the support of such smart and caring people.  
> Thanks also to all those who heard bits and pieces of the story over the many months and responded with encouragement; I'm very grateful.—J S


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